I’ve been struggling lately with an acute awareness of my own fallen state. One thing about being back at my current church is that it’s really easy to coast — I have an insanely good reputation there, and until I do something publicly that’s utterly horrendous, most people will continue to think of me as a slightly grown-up version of the little girl they’d known since kindergarten, who always knew the answers more than anybody else, consistently won the sword drills, never talked back or disobeyed anyone in authority, who grew up to be a very active member, youth leader, and children’s Bible teacher. Nobody ever worried about me.
Except me. Paul tells the Philippians to work out their own salvation with “fear and trembling,” and I know that “fear and trembling” well. Not a fear out of nothing — I’m not worried about God changing His mind (wonderful impossibility) and “unsaving” me — but a fear of failing to bring Him pleasure, an awareness that this is God to Whom I belong. And in truth, I want more than anything to please Him! When it comes down to actions, however, I fall short so often and so far. It burns and torments me, yet somehow, my brain fails to grasp the logic; knowing and even wanting does not equal doing. I want to be sick of the things this world has to offer, sick of the taint of sin within me. To be holy… sweet idea even in anticipation.
The other day, I was thinking of the words that accompany the signum crucis in Catholicism — in nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti, amen — and I realized (the obvious) that sancti was the Latin word for “holy.” I knew this in a purely linguistic context (having had two years of Latin in addition to informal study), but I hadn’t thought about the religious implications. We talk about “sanctification” a lot, and I guess I’d associated the word vaguely with “purification” — but technically, “sanctification” means “the act or process of becoming set apart.” The becoming holy. The becoming pure. This isn’t some abstract theological concept to be named and casually set aside! This is the heart of where we are — now. Present-day.
I was reading The Pursuit of Man (no, it’s not a dating book :-)) today in the dentist office. I found myself arrested by one passage above all the others:
We habitually stand in our now and look back by faith to see the past filled with God. We look forward and see Him inhabiting our future; but our now is uninhabited except for ourselves. Thus, we are guilty of a kind of temporary atheism which leaves us alone in the universe while, for the time, God is not. We talk of Him much and loudly, but we secretly think of Him as being absent, and we think of ourselves as inhabiting a parenthetic interval between the God who was and the God who will be.
I know God is here. I know He hears my prayers and my praises, and I believe the world unfolds according to His will. But, in the discussion of sanctification, the Word is exceedingly clear that my sanctification is His doing (Romans 6:22, 1 Thessalonians 4:3+7, 1 Peter 1:2, 2 Thessalonians 2:13, 1 Corinthians 1:30). And clearly the process of being made holy is extremely present-tense. Not too long ago, I thought that God saved me, gave me the Holy Spirit (which then warred with my “self” to prevent the accomplishment of sin), then abandoned me to the struggle until heaven, where my “self” would be removed and the Spirit could accomplish His perfect work without restriction. There’s two huge errors in that doctrine — one, that I could accomplish good things on my own, the Spirit was only needed to prevent sin and give guidance; and two, God didn’t abandon the situation. When Christ left Earth, He promised the Spirit — but how often do we take the Spirit and try to shove Him into a conscience-shaped box that plainly will not hold the whole power and depth and mercy of God Almighty?
The Greek word for “sanctification” and “holiness” used in the verses mentioned above is hagiasmos. The Greek word for “Holy” in “Holy Spirit” is hagios. In other words, the word used for sanctification — this thing that happens to us — is (eventually) etymologically from an adjective used to describe God. We are being made holy in the same sense that He is holy. And it isn’t a process that He’s passively working on. It’s not something we have to figure out on our own. God didn’t give us the tools along with “saving faith” and then set us loose. He’s here, now, presently, completing the good work which He began.
That’s an encouraging thought. There are so many things in my life that I badly want removed — I yearn for perfection — but God is infinitely knowledgeable, and despite an intimate acquaintance with all my flaws (for His comprehension of them far surpasses even my own), He isn’t giving up. He’s still patiently conforming me to His standard of perfection. And He will continue to do so, according to His purpose.
In closing, Spurgeon’s devotional for today seemed remarkably appopriate, although I hadn’t read it until I started writing this:
“For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh.”
- Gal_5:17
In every believer’s heart there is a constant struggle between the old nature and the new. The old nature is very active, and loses no opportunity of plying all the weapons of its deadly armoury against newborn grace; while on the other hand, the new nature is ever on the watch to resist and destroy its enemy. Grace within us will employ prayer, and faith, and hope, and love, to cast out the evil; it takes unto it the “whole armour of God,” and wrestles earnestly. These two opposing natures will never cease to struggle so long as we are in this world. The battle of “Christian” with “Apollyon” lasted three hours, but the battle of Christian with himself lasted all the way from the Wicket Gate in the river Jordan. The enemy is so securely entrenched within us that he can never be driven out while we are in this body: but although we are closely beset, and often in sore conflict, we have an Almighty helper, even Jesus, the Captain of our salvation, who is ever with us, and who assures us that we shall eventually come off more than conquerors through him. With such assistance the new-born nature is more than a match for its foes. Are you fighting with the adversary to-day? Are Satan, the world, and the flesh, all against you? Be not discouraged nor dismayed. Fight on! For God himself is with you; Jehovah Nissi is your banner, and Jehovah Rophi is the healer of your wounds. Fear not, you shall overcome, for who can defeat Omnipotence? Fight on, “looking unto Jesus”; and though long and stern be the conflict, sweet will be the victory, and glorious the promised reward.
