Therefore, Go

I MET A FELLOW the other day who claimed (in jest) to be a member of a recovery group for those addicted to rededications. Apparently, he had suffered from years of rededicating his life to God. By the time he was eighteen, he had rededicated his life ten times. The emotional support and strength he garnered every time he went forward at the end of camp week left him exhilarated, ready to face the task of being Christian in this world—that is, until he slipped up again.

Now, by no means is there anything wrong with rededicating one’s life to God, but by the tenth time, we might consider the notion that something in the church (by “church” I mean “all of God’s people,” not “clergy”) has run amuck. That something might be the lack of discipleship. Far too anxious to “get people in,” to pray the prayer, we have ignored what it takes to stay in, namely, the irresistible and efficient grace of God. Just as soon as we can get a Christian profession out of someone, we drop that person and move on to the next. What does this produce except new converts who have to learn the hard way how to avoid false teaching, or worse, confessors of the faith who have no faith at all? Combine this with the unspoken but ubiquitous (and misguided) doctrine that really good Christians no longer struggle with sin, and we have a situation ripe for rededications.

While dispensing with sin is indeed the charge and duty of all who claim to follow Jesus, the fact that sin persists in this world reveals our need of the grace of God. This, of course, does not mean that we continue in sin so that grace may abound (“By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?” Rom. 6:2). Rather, our continuing battle with sin, seemingly increased because as Christians we are more sensitive to it, reveals to us God’s abundant grace (see Rom. 5:20).

By this grace we are made into Christ’s disciples, but it doesn’t happen by just quietly sitting there. This is where the tired cliché “something worth fighting for” actually applies. Becoming a disciple of Christ has to be desired, yearned for, chased after; and further, we who are in a position to disciple must be willing to do so; we must actively seek the opportunities so to do (see Matt. 28:19a). And that means, if the metaphor holds, getting our dirty hands dirty with the lives of others. It simply will not do to shuffle people in only to shuffle them aside, unless we’re ready to send into battle one-legged soldiers in an army of rededication addicts.

{This originally appeared in Tabletalk 29.8 (August 2005): 25}

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Repentance from First to Last

{This originally appeared in Tabletalk 28.3 (March 2004): 25}

On October 31, 1517, Dr. Martin Luther posted his ninety-five theses on the academy bulletin board (which happened to be the church door in those days). Essentially, the theses rebuked church leaders for abusing indulgences. Indulgences, he argued, cannot forgive sins. Rather, they are in danger of bringing a false peace to the sinner’s conscience — a place reserved only for God’s once-for-all justification of His children.

Can anyone recall the first thesis, the one upon which all the others follow? True, it is not as bold as, for example, thesis 86, which chides the wealthy pope for not funding the building of Saint Peter’s Basilica with his own money. But on second glance, Luther’s first thesis is far more substantial than the eighty-sixth. It reads as follows: “Our Lord and Master Jesus Christ, when He said ‘Do sincerely repent,’ willed that the whole life of believers should be repentance.”

This has less to do with that revivalistic moment of conversion so popular in American culture, and more to do with the perpetual call not to harden our hearts and neglect so great a salvation. Luther’s first thesis brings us directly to Tabletalk’s Scripture texts for both Friday and Monday (Heb. 4:6–8). In the middle of his discussion about the promise of rest, the author of Hebrews quotes the words of David from Psalm 95: “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts” (vv. 7–8). The covenant promise of rest still stands, but “today” we must respond.

This principle is not new in the new covenant; it can be observed throughout redemptive history. The patriarchs heard it loudly when circumcision was instituted (Gen. 17:9–14); the wandering generation heard it at the foot of Mount Sinai (Deut. 10:16); amid the Conquest, the Israelites heard it (Josh. 22:4–6); during the rise and fall of the Israeli kingdom, its prophets repeatedly declared it (Isa. 30:15; Jer. 5:3; Ezek. 18:30; Hos. 6:1; Joel 1:13); the apostle Paul described it (Gal. 2:20); and last, but not least, Jesus commanded it (Luke 9:23).

What this gives us today is a connection with those believers who have gone before us. For example, circumcision — just like baptism — was never intended to be merely an external act. Since the fall, God has called all people to turn to Him perpetually so that the promise of rest will not be missed. A one-time “sinner’s prayer” is nothing if not followed by an entire life of repentance, which comes from God from first to last (Rom. 2:4).

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