(Continued from part 1, part 2 and part 3.)

There is therefore … condemnation

What happens when a local church is captured by the notion that all of its members are to live like David Livingstone? Is it enough that this church faithfully partakes of the Lord’s Supper, baptizes, sits under the Word of God every Sunday, visits the sick and shut in, leavening the area where God placed it? No, it is not. Every member must be like Livingstone, or Blessit, or Graham, or Müller.

We not only evaluate our churches by the inapplicable standard of one man’s calling, but we also evaluate them by the standard of the “renewal movement.” We started out in youth rallies, moved to charismatic conferences, and then on to seminars about reforming the church and nation. We are Movement oriented.

Renewal movements are exciting, fresh, intense. But this is not the normal Christian life. So when my particular church ceases being “on the cutting edge” of whatever it is God-is-doing-in-the-earth, I take off looking for the next “wave,” the next movement, the next spiritual rush. I want to ride the waves, not build the church.

I believe that a vast majority of evangelicals are addicted to the psychological highs which come with the new renewal movement: the new churches it produces, the new paradigm, the new practices, etc. There is absolutely no commitment to the church as the church because it is the church. No. We see our local church as a movement Which has ceased moving us—so it is time to move on.

Green Beret Christians evaluate themselves and their churches by the standard of a renewal movement or revival. If they are not experiencing the conscious presence of God, something is wrong with them or the church: I am in sin, they are in sin, someone is in sin! If there are not times of intense focus upon religious things, they are “being distracted by the world.” If they are not learning new music every Sunday, “God has departed.” If souls are not being converted at a good pace, “We have no heart for the lost.” What do they do? They go start another franchise of The Church of What’s Happenin’ Now, or The Church Which Is Doing It Right.

What happens to the normal Christian when living a normal life as a Christian is thought to be far less than what God requires? They have only two options. They can (a) fake it, secretly living with the condemnation of their commonness, or (b) leave the church altogether. Of course, there are a few brave, mature souls who refuse to bow to the extra-scriptural demands of the elite and patiently wait for us all to run out of steam.

Given this mindset, are we surprised to learn of the havoc we have brought into the church? Can we see that when we demanded a church of pure spirituality that we embarked on a road inevitably leading to schismatic behavior? When we withdrew our loyalty from churches because they were filled with tares, were we not requiring more than God Himself requires this side of eternity? What would happen if we judged our own souls with the same perfectionistic standard we hung like the Sword of Damodes over our local churches?

Can we see the damage caused by our pride and ignorance? Meat-eaters shunning milk-drinkers; the spiritual elite leaving the “carnal” church to start their own “First Church of the Green Berets” —a church where one’s spirituality (to place the best possible light on it) is judged by the standard of one particular calling and gifting rather than his saltiness in day-to-day living. Will there be growth in grace in this sort of atmosphere?

(Tomorrow: Did Biblical apostles teach only “Green Beret” Christianity?)

(Continued from part 1 and part 2.)

The Spiritual Elite

One of the driving forces behind pietistic evangelical fundamentalism is its desire to be on the cutting edge of true spirituality. We will have none of that two-tiered Roman Catholic brand of Christianity where the priests are required to live holy lives on behalf of a people who get to be normal! No way! Every believer is a priest who is required to talk like an epistle and live like an apostle.

Do you go to church only on Sundays? You are clearly in need of some sort of Damascus Road experience. Have you failed to read all of Sproul’s or Swindoll’s or Tozer’s books? Slacker! You don’t pray for an hour every day and read your Bible through at least twice a year? And you really think you’re saved?

For the average serious evangelical, a church is not really a church unless it is filled with Green Berets for Jesus. We hold to the notion that the true church is the home of the Spirit-filled elite and the apostolic meat-eaters. And if not? Look out. Ministers will be brought into such ordinary congregations to exhort the people to be like a missionary society or a para-church organization. How can they prove their commitment? They must give more than a tithe. They must daily get up at 5 a.m. and pray for an hour. They must evangelize every unbeliever in their office before the next service where they will be expected to give their testimony of success. They must dress like Ozzie and Harriet, talk like Charlton Heston doing Moses, and eat like St. Francis of Assisi.

In the early days of the church, one of the major battles to be waged was against the infiltration of Gnosticism. Usually, these people believed that the truly spiritual were those who had received special knowledge, special revelation. Gnostics did not believe that created matter (e.g., the flesh, the earth, time) could ever attain to something like holiness. Matter was evil, spirit was holy. People who lived normal lives—who did things like get married, have children, work with their hands—were worse than dogs. Only those who sought to escape this world of matter and ordinariness to the perfect world from where they originated were holy.

So what happened when those who wished to be uncommon came into contact with the blacksmith who claimed to have been born-again—and remained a common blacksmith with a common wife and common children, who lived common lives and died commonly? “This cannot be! How can this laborer claim to have had the same spiritual experience that we have enjoyed?” This would not do. If the masses could accept the faith, then something more must be required. There had to be a higher plane, a deeper life: one where the meat-eater would not have to rub shoulders with milk-drinkers.

It was simply not acceptable to these Gnostic elite to be lumped together with such earthy people. What was the solution to their dilemma? Create another tier of spirituality—The Deeper Life Club, which alone could claim to be the truly, authentic, spiritual, holy, New Testament church!

(Tomorrow: What happens when Christians grow more enamored with spiritual elitism and Movements, rather than Christ and the Gospel?)

(Continued from part 1.)

“Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”

For the next few weeks I wrestled with what I should do with my life. Music did not appear to be the vehicle that was going to take me where I wanted to go. And where was that? I didn’t really know. All I knew was that I had to give my life to something bigger than myself,  something transcendent, something that would demand every ounce of my being, every second of my existence.

One evening, while walking the aisles of the library at Samford, my eyes trained on the top shelf, I tripped over a stack of books lying on the floor. While restacking the books, my eyes focused on the name of a man whom I had read about years before. I picked up the book and began reading.

He was back in his native Scotland to receive an honorary Doctor of Laws from the University of Glasgow. As he walks across the stage to receive the honor, the audience sees the great David Livingstone: a man gaunt and emaciated from years of living in Africa with hostile temperatures and people. He has suffered malaria well over twenty times. One of his arms hangs useless by his side, having been mauled by a lion. And rather than clapping and yelling (or taunting, as the students usually did on such occasions), they stood and greeted him with the ovation of  reverential silence.

He announced that he will soon return to the continent that had captured his soul years before. Knowing people wondered about the sanity of going back to such horrendous conditions, living nearly every day with the threat of death, he tells the students why he will go back with gladness. His confidence was based on a promise from God, Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. “On those words I staked everything, and they never failed!”

As I read this story, I knew that I was called to take the gospel of the kingdom to the world: Other people may wish to live out their lives in the same neighborhoods as they grew up in, with the same friends, eating at the same restaurants for the next fifty years, but this was not my destiny. I wanted to take the gospel to wherever spiritual darkness was the greatest. Neighborhoods would suffocate me; only the needs of nations would make me want to get up in the morning!

For the next several years, I preached in bus stations, bars, colleges, churches and on street corners. For close to eighteen months I spoke an average of five times a day on radio and television, before prayer groups and in “revival services.” Thousands of young people confessed Christ as their Lord.

It was an amazing time. I could stand in a park in downtown Birmingham, Alabama, and within moments after I had begun speaking, hundreds of people gathered around to listen. When I exhorted young people to come with me after a church service was dismissed, scores of them followed me to the beach, to a park or to the racetrack where we shared the gospel with those who never dreamed of being approached on such a subject in such a place. The unbelievers were hungry, the believers were on fire.

But what happened when many of the older adults or even some of the young people had other things to do or did not “feel led” to follow me in my quest? Well, isn’t it obvious? They were deadbeats with spiritual mononucleosis. They were lukewarm Christians whom God was going to puke out of His mouth, Pharisees upon whom He would send His judgment!

It was one thing for my fellow ministers and me to give away nearly all the money we earned, forgoing certain creature comforts, witnessing from city to city. We crossed the line, however, when we began to believe that all Christians should have the same experiences we had and share the gospel with the lost with the same intensity and frequency that we did. We went over the edge when we deemed ourselves more spiritual than those who refused to follow our lead.

(Tomorrow: While attempting to avoid the caste-system-like tenets of religions such as Catholicism, do evangelicals fall into the same trap?)

First you got saved, your sins are forgiven, and you love God. But now it’s time to make your serious commitment. Will you be one of those Christians who plays it safe, or are you going to get crazy for Jesus, and devoting all your life to Him?

Last week I was reminded that such challenges are not nearly so new as they sound. They’ve been around for many, many decades, and in forms and with language that sounds much the same each time. And Dr. Monte E. White, in a 1999 column printed in Reformation & Revival Journal, knows full well how it goes — because for many years he went along with it himself.

Thanks much to him for allowing his article to be reprinted here from the original article.¹ All divisions are my own — for what will turn out to be a seven-part series on this site — and no change has been made while converting the PDF to straight text.

Green Berets for Jesus

It was late one evening when a friend came to my dorm room at Samford University. I had been practicing piano for hours and was just getting to my room for some dreaded work on a Western Civilization assignment. The friend excitedly told me of a revival at one of the Baptist churches there in Birmingham, Alabama. Apparently, he had “never seen or heard of anything like what was going on there.” Being the son of a Southern Baptist pastor, I seriously doubted if there was anything I had not already seen or heard. However, since I was weary of being secluded in a windowless room for three hours of piano practice, I “felt led” to go to church that night.

We arrived forty-five minutes early and there were no more seats available in an auditorium that seated 750 or more people. Rather than standing outside with all the latecomers and listening to the service via loudspeakers, I led my friend around the back where we sneaked in through some closets, crawled through the choir loft and sat down on the floor directly in front of the pulpit.

After some rousing music, the janitor came out to do something with the pulpit. I knew he was the janitor because he had longhair, was wearing faded blue jeans, a pullover and sandals. To my surprise, however, the “janitor” turned out to be the speaker—Arthur Blessit [sic], the “father” of the Jesus Movement. For forty-five minutes, Arthur exhorted the crowd of young people to give their lives to Jesus Christ. The man’s very pores exuded the love of Christ. I was mesmerized by his passion for the lost and his obvious devotion to reach those whom the church had ignored.

When the sermon was over, an invitation was given for people to come forward to give themselves to Jesus. Scores came down the aisle and emptied their pockets of drugs and related paraphernalia. While Arthur was working his way through the crowd, I could see that he was moving in my direction. As I tried to back up and give the pagans room to talk with the man, I could see that he was focused on reaching me. When he took my hand, before I could say— “I am a Baptist who hasn’t missed Sunday School in fourteen years and my dad is a leading pastor in the denomination so don’t confuse me with the riffraff” —he told me to sit in a pew and not leave until he had spoken with me. His tone was stem, his demeanor was commanding.

While I had the urge to run, I waited for Arthur to return. “No one talks to me in that tone. What happened to the love that was dripping from his every word? Why did he look so angry with me? Does he think I am one of those pagans?” Before I could let him know that he had made a mistake, he sat down beside me and told me that I was obviously running from God’s call on my life. “What call is that?” I asked. “The call to the ministry,” he shot back.

Now I had already explained to God a year before that I would serve Him, but not in any pulpit. I loved my dad; I thought he was an incredible man of God. However, the vocation seemed quite stressful, laden with poverty and filled with men who needed some lessons in savoir faire. Not a lifestyle I was attracted to. So, as a compromise with the Almighty, I offered my services in the world of music. Obviously, Arthur had not been made privy to this agreement. However, before I could explain my case to this misguided evangelist, he told me that we—as in, the two of us—were going to go out and “witness to people for the Lord.”

When we pulled up in front of the Boom-Boom Room, I knew I was in trouble. I had frequently patronized this establishment but had not “felt led” to speak to anyone there about his spiritual condition. While I had never been carded there before, this time I begged God to see to it that the gentleman at the door noticed I was under age. He did not.

While Arthur began cheerfully speaking to individuals about the gospel I did my best to disappear into the shadows and hoped that no one recognized me. But then 1 heard a man ask me if I was “with that long-haired guy over there.” I nodded yes, eyes staring forward. He then asked me if I believed the same things that Arthur was telling people over at the bar. I affirmed my agreement with another nod, and still would not look at the gentleman who was speaking to me.

“Do you mean to tell me that Jesus will forgive me all of my sins, if I ask Him to?” His voice was filled with amazement.

“Yes,” I answered, with a voice filled with a not-so-subtle tone that said, “Go Away, You Bother Me!”

“Do you mean that I could pray right here and give my life to Jesus Christ and He would wipe my sins away?” His voice was growing louder.

“Yes.” My answers were more quiet than the still small voice heard by Elijah.

“I can repent … and He will forgive anything and everything I have done wrong?”

I sighed a “Yes” in his general direction.

“Okay. Let’s pray. I want to give my life to Jesus!”

I couldn’t believe it. I looked over at the elderly gentleman whose cheeks were bathed in tears and … drew a blank. What was I supposed to say? Finally I remembered that I should lead him in prayer, and so offered my hand and bowed my head. With the gusto of a Pentecostal, the man yelled out, “No, I want to kneel like those people over there are doing with your friend!” And before I could explain that we were not saved by such works, he had yanked me to the floor to kneel beside him and began repenting of every sin he had ever committed, his anguish filling every syllable. Before I had time to cover myself by acting as if I had dropped my contact lenses, I was awash in tears of humiliation over my arrogance and fear of man. Here was an unbeliever who, without hesitation, was willing to humble himself before God and man while I, a longtime believer, refused to do anything that would take me out of my ego’s comfort zone.

(Tomorrow: do all Christians have the same calling as “Green Berets” like David Livingstone?)

For many years Coral Ridge had two very distinct worship services–one contemporary and one traditional. The result was the unintentional development of two different churches under one roof. It wasn’t healthy.

[...] The truth is, however, that if the only type of music you employ in a worship service is old, you inadvertently communicate that God was more active in the past than he is in the present. On the other hand, if the only type of music you employ in a worship service is new, you inadvertently communicate that God is more active in the present than he was in the past.

So just this past Sunday, Coral Ridge (founded and formerly pastored by the late Dr. D. James Kennedy) reunited its services.

As I wrote on Facebook, referencing conversation between myself and my wife:

I absolutely love the thought behind this. Last night Lacy and I were talking about the sad sort of division that “…split services” (perhaps unintentionally) generate in a church. The older members miss out on the younger people’s enthusiasm and energy, and the younger members miss out on the older members’ wisdom and experiences. In effect it’s saying “I have no need of you” to either “group” and its styles. So glad for Pastor Tullian and others, who are not just urging people to be nicer to each other, but to focus on Christ and the Gospel.

Ray Fowler was there, and on Tuesday provided a more-detailed account of what the reunified service was like:

As the congregation gathered, the orchestra played a worshipful rendition of the hymn, “This Is My Father’s World.” This was followed by a video presentation of the church’s new vision for worship appropriately titled, “One.” Next the majestic organ swelled as we all stood for the opening hymn. But then, surprise, the organ traded off for the drum kit, the orchestra and praise band joined in, and we sang “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” to a truly blended accompaniment of all the instruments together.

The service continued with traditional and contemporary elements blended together. We sang hymns and praise choruses with various instrumentation. During the offering the choir and orchestra presented a stirring rendition of Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus.” Pastor Tullian preached a convicting message on the importance of unity in the church from Ephesians 4:1-6. All things were done to God’s glory with excellence in keeping with Coral Ridge’s philosophy of ministry.

As I also wrote, in response to the above description:

I imagine the Throne Room of the New Jerusalem, on the New Heavens and New Earth, to be a little like this: a snapshot of the incredible diversity, across ages, cultures and genres, of true worship.

For instance, there’s the main theme of chapter 6, “How Much is Enough?” The question, and much of the chapter, reference Mark 10 and its description of Jesus’ encounter with a rich man.

Platt summarizes the account, ending with the rich man’s dejected departure from Jesus, clearly not wanting to follow Jesus’ commandment to sell all he has and follow Him. God bless Platt, he focuses on the truth that the rich man didn’t just have a moral failing. “Fundamentally, the rich man needed a new heart, one that was radically transformed by the gospel,” Platt writes.

Radical’s author also focuses on two errors people derive from the passage: acting as if the New Testament commands all Christians to sell all they have, or assuming that “Jesus never calls his followers to abandon all their possessions to follow him.

“This means he might call you or me to do this,” Platt notes.

But how would we know that? The author stops short of offering thoughts. What solution will fill the empty space? My concern: all those assumptions about listening for some “inner leading” from God, a nudge or a pull this direction or that, are still around. And many Christians will lurch toward them automatically.

Yes, a longer discussion of discerning God’s will would take more time. But Platt was good at including other disclaimers. A short aside like this would have helped: We can’t know for sure if God wants you to sell all you have. That’s another topic (try so-and-so book about it). But we do know Scripture doesn’t support some ideas of listening for God’s “inner nudge.” Our only sure source of knowing God’s will in advance is the written Word.

Without such disclaimers, Radical could permit wrong ideas to enter readers’ minds. To be sure, that’s often not an author’s fault. But Platt’s other asides, such as the hmm-hmm-maybe-that’s-naughty line about French fries, contribute (likely unintentionally) to a guilt-inducing edge. ¹

As Kevin DeYoung notes in his critical, though friendly review:

To his credit, Platt says we don’t need to feel guilty for everything that is not an absolute necessity (127). But earlier we are made to feel bad for the money we spend on french fries (108). It is easy to stir people to action by relating how little everyone else has and how much we have in America, but we are not meant to have constant low-level guilt because we could be doing more.

Even more than Platt’s French fries part, this aside from page 77 provoked my raised eyebrow:

In all this missions talk, you may begin to think, Well, surely you’re not suggesting that we’re all supposed to move overseas. That is certainly not what I’m suggesting (thought I’m not completely ruling it out!).

And why not completely rule that out? No — let’s completely rule it out! If the entire body were in overseas missionary work, where would the sense of domestic missionary work be? If the entire body were on the missionary dole, where would the sense of financial support be?

It doesn’t take much to show why Christians should avoid even hinting that one ministry calling would be better than another. That is true even if they’re passionate about certain ministries, such as overseas missionary work. And I argue it’s true even if a Christian book’s audience may be the sorts of people who truly need to consider that their callings may be greater than preserving their American Dreams and leaving the harder missionary work to Those People.

Platt’s lyrics may say all the right things. I just wonder if he let slip some assumptions about the best Christian living, however unintentionally, in the music of his asides and anecdotes.

How many steps is it from confused Christianity to non-Christianity? When it comes to the question of how Jesus Christ and His love relate to God’s Law, it’s only a few:

1. Biblical truth: Jesus came not to abolish the Law, but to fulfill it (Matthew 5:17).
2. Step down, still true, but less clear: Jesus came not to uphold the Law, but to fulfill it.
3. Step down, questionable: Jesus came not to uphold the Law, but to love.
4. Step down, more questionable: God now doesn’t uphold the Law, but only loves.
5. Step down, un-Biblical belief: God doesn’t punish breakers of the Law, but only loves.

In just one simple, four-step process, with slight modifications — perhaps over generations, perhaps over only a few years in one church — a Biblical position becomes un-Biblical. Thus a slight confusion about how Jesus relates to the Law turns into universalism.

And some Christians may act or think like Universalists even if they do not believe everyone in the world will somehow, someday, eventually be saved.

For example, nowadays there’s a derivative view out there that greatly resembles universalism. Proponents refer to this by other names, such as the wider mercy view. From what I’ve read, that refers to God’s mercy supposedly being wider than we often think, and in fact, the most extreme versions of this view claim that people can be saved without consciously repenting of their sins and professing faith in Jesus Christ.

Teaching vacuums

I can understand a few factors contributing to this view.

1. “God is love.” Evangelicals have long overcorrected for notions — which apparently arose from somewhere in the past — that God was a mean tyrant. But for years many of our best and brightest have been saying “God is love” without defining love, or the “rest of” God — including His character traits of holiness, justice and sovereignty.
2. “Make a decision.” Many have overdone the call for a response to the Gospel, as if God Himself is not powerful enough to save someone unless he/she “opens the door” to let Him do it. In response, some others may ask, even if only subconsciously, “why do we think God so powerless”? And to compensate for one extreme, some may lapse into yet another extreme idea: surely God is big enough to save people without their response.
3. “What about those who have never heard?” Though answers to this question can be tricky, Christian leaders and teachers should not shy away from it. A vacuum of teaching about God’s sovereignty and man’s sinfulness (which says: those who have never heard are still guilty for what they do know) leads to the wrong answers filling the space.

From some professing Christian universalists, or “wider mercy” proponents, I’ve heard the reasoning: oh no, this doesn’t mean we believe God is unjust, or fails to punish evil. One person once told me he believes God will punish evil, just not in the ways we assume, etc.

But our intent should not be to maintain a Theology System, whether or not it has all the reasonable facsimiles we’d like of all the moving parts. Rather: does a System follow Scripture?

Apparently enough evangelicals have expressed doubts about whether conscious repentance and belief in Jesus really is the only way to God, that author/pastor John Piper has written a book on the topic. Last week The Gospel Coalition posted a review, which I’ll excerpt here. Based on Scripture alone — not hopes, emotional appeals, or definitions of Biblical terms and themes based not on Scripture but outside sources — it’s wrong to claim anyone is saved without a conscious repentance and faith in Christ.

Is conscious faith in Christ necessary for salvation? According to Piper, it is. His argument comes in four parts. First (chapter four), Christ’s first coming triggered a shift in the history of salvation. The “mystery of Christ” has been revealed,  (Rom 16:25-27; Eph 3:4-10). The “times of ignorance” are past, and God now calls all peoples to turn to him (Acts 17:30-31). Jesus “is now openly installed and declared as Judge, and he alone can receive the appeals for acquittal” (76).

Second (chapter five), the case of Cornelius (Acts 10) shows that true God-seekers still need the gospel. Cornelius was not saved apart from the gospel. He was saved through it.

Third (chapter six), the apostolic message was that men are saved by Jesus’ name (Acts 4:12; Rom 9:30-10:21). Nowhere do we see men saved unaware. All are saved by an explicit confession of Christ. And this comes only through the preaching of Christ.

Fourth (chapter seven), the missionary vision of Paul and John called for repentance and faith of all. Their message was “Repent and believe, and you will be saved.” It was never, “Great news, you’ve already been saved!” They preached the necessity of explicit repentance and faith to both Gentiles (Acts 26:15-18) and Jews (Acts 13:38-52).

As if that Biblically based reasoning wasn’t enough to overthrow “wider mercy,” I’m also still trying to figure out why “wider mercy” proponents seem to deny man’s free will. Do they really believe in a God who won’t respect a person’s meaningful choice to go on hating Him?

No one is saved apart from conscious faith in Christ and the Gospel. Jesus died not to show us that God had moved on from all that Law stuff, but to fulfill the Law’s requirements and to make possible a person’s repentance and faith. To imply that all are saved, or will be saved, is a blatant lie, trying to be more “spiritual” than God — and it does not love others.

Part of this is because people don’t teach, or learn, well about the changes between Covenants. That involves more than saying, as an acquaintance of mine wrote the other day:

“You have heard that it was said…”
Where was it said? In the Old Testament
“…You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.”

My online acquaintance then referenced Psalm 139:20-22 as supposedly one example of the wrong kind of hate-your-enemy thinking that went on before Jesus Christ arrived on Earth to change our thinking.

But in the New Testament Jesus changes that and says what we need to do now, for the New has come.

I think I understand what my friend was trying to say. But this could bring even more confusion than clarity. Any hearer, whether Christian or non-Christian, would be forced to conclude that Jesus came along and contradicted a real portion of God’s Law!¹

Though I’m sure you didn’t mean to be this way, this is incorrect. If you think harder about it I’m sure you’ll see what I mean. Was the Psalmist wrong to think such thoughts? Was Jesus saying the Law had previously said that “you shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy”? If so, where is that passage of the Law? And if God did give that commandment, is Jesus saying God was wrong?

Many people wrongly conclude that Jesus’ “new way” just overrules the Law. Not so. Christians who downplay the Law, and its real and current role in the world, are at risk of trying to be more “spiritual” than Jesus.

1. Jesus doesn’t just release people from the Law’s burden. He increases it, by reminding us that true violations are in our hearts, not in our deeds! Only He Himself can remove its burden.

2. Jesus does not oppose the Law. He opposes false views of it. He decries the often-willing ignorance of some people, in particular religious hypocrites. Such people refuse to see that the Law pointed to Him as the One Who relieves its burden for those who repent and believe Him.

3. And Jesus did not come to overthrow the unfair, too-hard Law. He came to fulfill it.

1. Jesus fulfills, not abolishes, the Law.

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” [Matthew 5:17]

Lest anyone think Jesus came to offer anything different from the Law, He directly denied it. “I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them,” He said. I wonder: if I had been Jesus (scary thought), and I had wanted to tell people for sure that the true Law was not dead and gone or unnecessary for anyone in the present day, how would I have communicated this more clearly?

If Jesus actually did abolish the effects of the Law, here He was lying or obscuring the truth.

3. We should not downplay the Law.

“Therefore whoever relaxes one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven”

These seem like very strong words: those who try to downplay the Law and its truths aren’t just misguided, naïve or doctrinally wrong, but they “will be called least in the kingdom of heaven.”

That just makes me want to wipe my brow and pray I won’t be too cavalier about the Law!

God’s standards are just as holy today as they were back then. Jesus hasn’t lowered the standard; here, He has just made it higher and more strict than ever. If He hadn’t made it clear here and elsewhere that He Himself was the fulfillment of that standard, and died and rose again to prove it, people might still be calling Him a “legalist” today.

That comes from a series I wrote for YeHaveHeard.com called God’s Law and Jesus’ love. Would you consider reading that, so you can help Christians not imply that God’s Law is the bad stuff, and now we have “a new way” that makes the Law no longer important?

When Jesus said “you have heard that it was said,” he is not quoting Scripture. Whenever He does quote Scripture, He is much clearer about it. Instead, He is quoting a popular phrase of the day — a “law” that people may have made up, based on the real Law. And He says that His way is higher than that of the made-up Law.

Read Mark 7, and you’ll see that He does the same thing with the Pharisees. He does not offer “a new way” that is less harsh than the Law. He makes it clear that God’s standard is still the actual Law and the hearts of people. Otherwise, why in the world would people need His mercy and His death on the cross? People may believe (horribly!) that “God’s love” means they don’t need to repent of their sins and believe Jesus alone is the way they can be saved.

Meanwhile, I’ve collected the four-part God’s Law and Jesus’ love miniseries into a complete article, available here. Again I’m seeing how a seemingly small error (“Jesus came to change what God said”) can give rise to even worse mistakes — the worst of which is universalism.

These are all forms of being controlled by other people, and you might be surprised to realize the extent of it in your own life — I certainly was. In this book, biblical counselor Edward Welch looks at what the Bible calls our “fear of man” and how we can overcome it by understanding the character of God and applying biblical principles to our relationships. Soaking in this book (which I studied with a group of wonderful, likeminded young women) was an epoch in my understanding of biblical relationships, counseling, and psychology.

Basically, our fear of man is a worship issue. We worship people because we think they can give us the love and acceptance we crave. Our goal becomes their approval or their behavior that aligns with our desires. When we worship people, they are big in our lives and God is shunted off to the side, minuscule in comparison. We make other people something that we need, and we are always controlled by what we need.

This isn’t something we can conquer if we just work up enough willpower; it is impossible to break free on our own steam. So what’s the cure? How do we train ourselves not to fear man and to fear God rightly instead?

It all starts with the Word of God, which is completely sufficient for all our needs (2 Peter 1:3). We need to meditate on the white-hot holiness of God and His awesome power. When we understand who God is, His creation becomes a lot less intimidating. We must also learn to develop a biblical worldview of God, ourselves, and others and apply that knowledge daily.

One of the things I was challenged with and enjoyed the most in this book was its perspective on secular psychology. Welch addresses the hot-button issue of needs and psychology’s view of the person as an empty “love-cup” that constantly needs to be filled. We are not empty, leaky love-cups with psychological needs. It’s true that we are needy people, but those needs are spiritual (such as salvation and sanctification), not psychological (love and good feelings about ourselves).

This flies in the face of secular psychology, which teaches that you need positive feedback from others to reach the goal of high self-esteem; that is, feeling good about yourself. The problem is that your self-image is still dependent on what other people say and think about you. It may be positive, but ultimately you are basing your view of yourself on what the imperfect people around you think. The real issue — dependence on others for feelings of self-esteem — remains unchanged.

I’ve been guilty of trying to confer self-esteem on others many times, and I can’t believe how I missed the obvious. Basically I was just training that person to continue in dependence on what other people (in this case, I) say.

The whole issue of spiritual needs versus psychological “felt needs” is one reason that so many people don’t find what they want in Jesus. They turn to Him to fill up the perceived needs of their love-cup, and He just doesn’t operate that way. He provides everything that we need, but what we need and what we think we need are two different things. Most of the things we would call “needs” are really just selfish desires. It isn’t always bad things that we’re desiring, either — most of the time it’s good things like love and relationship that we want. The problem is what we do with those good things; it’s the way we desire them that turns them into idols in our lives. We view them as our rights and feel wronged when we don’t get them.

The truth is, high self-esteem is just another term for pride. The Bible’s teaching on man is a dreary one; we are sinful, radically depraved creatures who have no legitimate reason whatsoever to feel good about ourselves. Anything good that we do has a selfish motive at some level.

I know this doesn’t jibe with the accepted bases of psychology which teach that man is essentially good, but it’s what the Word says and I’ve never met a person who wasn’t sinful and imperfect. And low self-esteem is just another form of pride too, because people with low self-esteem are still obsessed with themselves. The ideal is no self-esteem, because in that model self is peripheral, with love for God and others taking center stage in our lives. We can only be free when we are not obsessed with ourselves or with what others are thinking of us.

Our lives proceed out of our theology, as Welch says, and so he treats the basic doctrines of the character of God, the condition of man, redemption through Christ’s work on the Cross, and more. We are all theologians; we just don’t all have good theology.

The section on God’s needs (which are non-existent) is excellent because so often today God is portrayed as some desperate, begging weakling who needs us to love Him in order to experience fulfillment. This is baloney. God is perfectly self-sufficient in the unity of the Trinity; He needs nothing from us. And that is what makes His love so wonderful. He has no ulterior motive; His love is pure.

And I love how Welch makes the point that God’s goal is not us; this is most emphatically not self-esteem teaching dressed up in Christian lingo. The goal of everything God does is His own glory. If He existed to love us, that would make Him an idolater, because He would be centering Himself, the Creator, on something created! He would be no different from someone in the ancient world bowing down to an idol that he himself had fashioned. There is nothing higher in the universe than God’s glory, and so that is what He must seek if He is really a holy and perfect God.

Once Welch establishes the biblical view of needs, he can then talk about how God does fill our real needs (not our felt needs).

From there he moves on to discuss the importance of the Body of Christ and the community of believers. It’s important to note that “community” is not just a Christian idea; there is a move in secular circles toward group identities and relationships. Where the Christian should be different is in his/her motive for being involved in a community. It isn’t just another means toward self-actualization and growth (though we certainly do grow through our interactions with other believers). We should be active members of the Body of Christ because we can’t glorify God and exemplify Christ in isolation; we need others so that we can demonstrate God’s love toward them. In other words, once more it isn’t about us, but about honoring God and serving others. The goal is never a selfish one.

Of course, the community of believers — aka the church — isn’t a perfect place, and part of this chapter talks about dealing with conflict in the church. Ultimately we have to move toward others in love, even when it is costly. That’s what God has done for us. We need to ask ourselves what our duty is toward those who have hurt us, and then fulfill it. Biblical love for others will increase both our sorrows and our joys. The same principle is explored in the chapter on how to deal with enemies and “neighbors” (acquaintances, neither friends, family, or enemies). Loving enemies and even neutral neighbors is impossible without understanding God’s love for us. While we hated Him, He loved us and gave Himself for us. There is no stronger motivation to truly love others, and no other way it is possible.

Welch cites several biblical examples to demonstrate the truth of his arguments. I especially loved his treatment of the book of Hosea. What an incredible, humanly impossible demonstration of sacrificial love. His discussions of Isaiah and Job are also excellent. Welch also uses some case studies from his own ministry and some of them will hit close to home for people who have been sinned against (i.e., victimized) by others.

In addition to the great truths that Welch presents, I appreciated his engaging and seemingly effortless prose. He is eminently readable.

This was a transformational book for me. I am still walking through the cycle of conviction, repentance, and a changed worldview which leads to changed behavior. The fear of man is such an instinctive and powerful part of me, and I will probably be struggling with it till the day I die. But I am not helpless. God has given me what I need to change and has promised to complete His work in me (Philippians 1:6). With His grace working in my life, I will move closer to the goal of loving other people rather than needing them. I will learn to love as Christ loves me; God will become bigger and I (and others) will become smaller. He must increase and I must decrease. There is such freedom in that.

Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the LORD is kept safe. ~ Proverbs 29:25

Living in light of New Earth

Finally, I run the risk of committing a similar “ministry myopia” error when I fault Platt, even slightly, for echoing a false dichotomy of living for Heaven versus living for this physical world.

Though you and I live in the United States of America now, we must fix our attention on “a better country—a heavenly one.” […] If your life or my life is going to count on earth, we must start by concentrating on heaven. (page 179)

Many Christians may not see a problem here, or even have a problem here. I can only humbly suggest that saying such things could reinforce another myth in Christendom: a myth that spiritual things, jobs and actions — such as preaching the Gospel overtly — matter more to God than material things, such as a Christian’s vocations, creations or talents.

So what I would have really appreciated here is a reminder that God plans to bring Heaven down to Earth (Rev. 21), creating a New Heavens and New Earth. With that in mind, Christians’ goals ought not be just to live for heaven and store up spiritual blessings. How we manage our time, work and talents glorifies God. And even in material, non-spiritual-sounding ways, we glorify Him and live in light of the very real, physical After-world He will create.

Conclusion

In summary, ultimately I recommend Radical, though with some uncertainty. For those already saturated in Gospel-based worldviews and are living in radical ways, it’s a great reminder — yet don’t they already know this in theory? And for more-compromising Christians who need to hear Jesus’ call to radical living, isn’t it better to teach them more about what He has done?

(Further thoughts coming next week.)