Our Father’s Full Provision

Too much Christian living is old covenant living. We consume ourselves with trying to become what we already are, when our present task is to be who we already are.

Too much Christian ministry is old covenant ministry. We minister to Christians as if they are still non-Christians. We counsel saints as if they are still unsaved. We disciple one another as if we are still under the old covenant of law and not the new covenant of grace through which we enjoy our new nurture and our new nature.

Our new covenant salvation in Christ implants within us a new nature and a new nurture. We are cleansed (new purity) and invited in (new family). Sanctification does not involve making myself a saint, but living out my sainthood. It does not involve making myself a child of God, but enjoying my new sonship. The key to our victory is our faith in our new identity. The following narrative speaks to the new you in Christ.

The Vilest Offender

Imagine the vilest offender. As cruel as Hitler, as depraved as Manson, as corrupt as Jack the Ripper. Desperately wicked. Self-deceived. Anti-social. Amoral. Mr. Mass Murderer. The day his trial begins, every major news network, cable news station, news magazine, and newspaper in the country, and hundreds around the world, join the coverage.

Shocking every reporter, every spectator, every member of the jury, and even his own legal team, Mr. Mass Murderer pleads guilty. Begs forgiveness. Asks for mercy.

The Amazing Grace of Justification

Imagine the worldwide outrage as the judge responds, “Not guilty!”

“What a charade! Fool! He just said he was guilty. What is wrong with you? Have you gone mad? Retrial! Ethics probe! He must pay for his crimes.”

“His crimes have been paid for,” the judge retorts. “By my son. I have judged my son in place of Mr. Mass Murderer. They’ve exchanged places. My guiltless son, charged with nothing—his good standing I now transfer to Mr. Mass Murderer who is now free to go.”

The Amazing Grace of Reconciliation

“But he’s still evil through and through. A man like him can never change. He’s a danger to society. He must be locked up. Looked after.”

“He will live with me,” the judge replies. “Enjoying all the privileges my son enjoyed. I’ve adopted Mr. Mass Murderer into my family. He’s my adult son.”

The Amazing Grace of Regeneration

“That guarantees nothing. All your good intentions, all the love in the world, all the good nurture and best environment in the world does not guarantee that Mr. Mass Murderer will not continue his rampage.”

“I’m not finished. Hear me out,” the judge insists. “I’ve consulted the best medical, psychiatric, and psychological experts on the planet. Mr. Mass Murderer will receive a heart, brain, and soul transplant along with a DNA graft infusing into his very being my very nature.”

The Amazing Grace of Redemption

Momentarily silenced. Totally stunned. Then a hand shoots up. “But that only means that he has a clean start. What about all his old acquaintances, his old habits? They will still come around clamoring for his attention, demanding his loyalty and affection.”

“Fair question,” the judge agrees. “We’ve thought of everything. I’ve jailed all his old acquaintances. His foes are defeated. Plus, we’ve infused his new heart, brain, soul, and DNA complex with core power to remain free from and victorious over these past tempters.”

Living Out Our Complete Salvation

You’ve not been watching The Twilight Zone. Not The Outer Limits. Not even reality TV. But reality. Spiritual reality.

God our Judge justifies us, declaring us not guilty, forgiving us our trespasses, and reckoning his Son’s righteousness to our account. The amazing grace of justification.

However, God the Judge could have stopped here—forgiving us and then leaving us on our own. Left to our same old nurture we would return to our old haunts—the world, the flesh, and the Devil. We would continue our maddening quest for relationship apart from God.

But God the Judge takes his legal robes off, replacing them with relaxed family attire and comfy slippers, inviting us into his home, into his family—reconciliation. Forgiveness (justification) as great as it is, would have been hollow had we remained separated from Father. The Judge becomes our adoptive Father, granting us access to his home and all the privileges of adult children. The amazing grace of reconciliation.

Justification and reconciliation combine to form the first perfection of the new covenant—our new nurture. However, as the story of Mr. Mass Murderer correctly indicates, new nurture without new nature is insufficient to change us.

The Judge of the criminal and the Father of the adult son becomes the Creator, Parent, Progenitor, Begetter, Life-giver of a newborn infant—regeneration. Like Father, like son. Born again of incorruptible seed. Born from above to reflect the image of the Creator. Born with a new nature—new soul, mind, will, spirit, emotions. Born with a new heart—new capacities, disposition, inclinations, purity. The old dies. The new lives. The amazing grace of regeneration.

As amazing as all this is, we still need one more salvation grace—redemption. Freedom from the power of sin. Freedom from bondage and slavery to sin. We need victory. Resurrection power. The Judge of the criminal, the Father of the adult son, the Creator of the newborn infant, is also the Champion, Victor, Warrior, General, and King of the overcomer, of the empowered, freed, victorious soldier. Set free from the power of sin and death, united with the resurrection power of Christ. Victorious over the world, the flesh, the Devil, sin, and death. The amazing grace of redemption.

Join the Conversation

In your life and ministry, are you living out the amazing grace of our complete salvation in Christ: justification, reconciliation, regeneration, and redemption?

Note: This post is excerpted from Soul Physicians.

Tags: Gospel, Salvation, Sanctification, Soul Physicians

“Our Forgiving Father”—Luke 15

Part 3: “Father, I Don’t Need You!”

Welcome: Thanks for reading my Passion Week blog series as we reflect together on Our Forgiving Father. Today in Part 3, we see the reason why Jesus went to the Cross—each of us, in our own sinful way, have said, “Father, I Don’t Need You!” But God offers us hope—when we put our ear to the chest of Christ we hear the heartbeat of God—the heartbeat of our Forgiving Father.

Part 3: “Father, I Don’t Need You!”: Luke 15:13-14; 27-29

Like the prodigal, we have all said, “I’m leaving You, Father!” Like him, we also have said, “Father, I don’t need you!”

Leaving the fullness of the father’s love, the younger son embarks on a quest to find fulfillment in the world. The father’s voice of unconditional love has always said, “You are safe with me. You can rest in me. You are my beloved.” The son shuts his ears to his father’s voice.

“Father, I Can Satisfy My Own Soul”: Luke 15:13-14

Leaving the voice of his father, this self-sufficient young man begins to hear the voices of the world. This son, like each of us, hears those other voices: loud, full of promises, and very seductive. “You don’t need the Father. You can make it on your own. Take care of yourself!” But the son forgets a basic principle of human nature: something must fill our emptiness. Something must fill the empty void we create when we push the Father out.

That’s why these voices have a way of coming back to haunt us. They certainly haunt this son. Notice how Jesus pictures the haunting in verses 13-14. “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need.” He squanders his wealth. He scatters it abroad without restraint. He spent the whole wad in a futile attempt to fill his spiritual need with material possessions.

Two decades ago, when my son, Josh, was five, we took a family trip to Disney World. Josh had saved up tons of money—tons of money for a five-year-old, anyway—and had it in quarters in a sip-lock bag. A Brink’s truck it wasn’t, but you would have been hard pressed to snatch that money from his clutches! Josh had major plans for the special purchases he would spend his treasure on when we arrived at Disney World, Orlando, Florida! The first thing we did was have our picture taken in front of the Magic Kingdom. The second thing we did was visit the Magic Kingdom. The third thing we did, given that Josh insisted, was stop at the arcade in the Magic Kingdom. At this time, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were at the height of their popularity. And Josh, with his bag of quarters, saved for a year for unique Disney World adventures, proceeded to scatter his money abroad without restraint on the very same Turtle game that the local department store had at a cheaper price!

Don’t be too hard on my son. He was only five. The fact is, spiritually speaking, we all squander what we have in a futile attempt to gain what we can never purchase on our own.

The prodigal son of Jesus’ parable not only squanders his wealth, he also becomes entangled in the powerful enticements of the world. He spends his money in loose living. He vainly attempts to fill his emptiness with the unrestrained satisfaction of the flesh. Something must fill the empty void we create when we push out our Father.

Years ago, a woman I was counseling spoke the saddest words I’ve ever heard. We had been talking about her past and our Father’s healing power when she looked at me with piercing eyes and said, “Bob, some sins are so deep that even the love of God can’t touch them.” Though they are false words, this tormented Christian believed them.

Because of his lifestyle, the prodigal son would succumb to similar false thinking. He would come to believe that his sins were so deep that he was doomed to live an unforgiven life.

“Father, I Can Save My Own Soul”: Luke 15:27-29

His fate, however, must take a backseat for the moment. Recall that Jesus began His parable with the words, “There was a man who had two sons.” To hear the heartbeat of our Father, we must also view Christ’s portrait of the elder son.

Jesus introduces him later in the story, after the father had begun to celebrate with the younger son. Upon hearing the sound of music and dancing, the elder son called one of the servants to determine what was happening. “‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fatted calf because he has him back safe and sound.’ The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I have been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends’” (15:27-29).

In the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, Russia hangs one of Rembrandt’s most famous paintings: The Return of the Prodigal Son. In Rembrandt’s depiction of this powerful parable, the elder son stands far off, hands clasped, back stiff and erect. There is a great gulf between him and his father. It is a picture of a son, who though he had never left home, long ago left home. He saw himself as a slave, not as a son. As Henri Nouwen writes:

Not only did the younger son, who left home to look for freedom and happiness in a distant country, get lost, but the one who stayed home also became a lost man. Exteriorly, he did all the things a good son is supposed to do, but interiorily, he wandered away from his father. He did his duty, worked hard every day, and fulfilled all his obligations but became increasingly unhappy and unfree.

He too experiences awayness from his father. He’s away from the father because he’s clinging to his self-righteousness. Defiantly he confronts his father. “I never disobeyed your orders. I never transgressed your commandments!” He is unwilling to acknowledge that he’s no better than his younger brother. He is unwilling to admit that he, too, has it comin,’ and is in need of fatherly forgiveness.

The Rest of the Story

So far, it might not seem like much of an “Easter story.” But remember, Good Friday and Easter are God’s responses to our sin. It’s time to listen to the heartbeat of our forgiving Father in Part 4—“Returning Home.”

Join the Conversation

Which prodigal are you more like? The overtly rebellious one who says, “Father, I can satisfy my own soul?” Or, the subtly rebellious one who says, “Father, I can save my own soul?”

Tags: Easter, Forgiveness, Good Friday, Palm Sunday, Prodigal Son

“Our Forgiving Father”—Luke 15

Part 2: Leaving Home

Welcome: Thanks for reading my Passion Week blog series as we reflect together on Our Forgiving Father. Today in Part 2, we see that we’re all Prodigal Sons or Prodigal Daughters. However, there’s hope—when we put our ear to the chest of Christ we hear the heartbeat of God—the heartbeat of our Forgiving Father.

Part 2: Leaving Home: Luke 15:1-2, 11-14

The opening of Christ’s parable in Luke 15 is delightfully conventional, even to the point of being childlike. “There was a man who had two sons.” It’s almost as if Jesus begins His story with the words, “Once upon a time.” What happened once upon a time to this father of two sons?

“Father, I’m Leaving You!”: Luke 15:1-2, 12

Jesus begins the action with the youngest son’s demand. To us the words seem innocent enough. “Father, give me my share of the estate.” To the father, the words are radical—suggesting heartless rejection.

Jesus tells it all so simply and matter-of-factly that it is difficult to realize fully that what is happening here is unheard of: hurtful, offensive, and in radical contradiction to the most venerated tradition of the times. Kenneth Bailey, in his penetrating explanation of Jesus’ story, shows that the son’s manner of leaving is tantamount to wishing his father dead. Bailey writes:

For over fifteen years I have been asking people of all walks of life from Morocco to India and from Turkey to the Sudan, about the implications of a son’s request for his inheritance while the father is still living. The answer has always been emphatically the same. The conversation runs as follows: “Has anyone ever made such a request in your village?” “Impossible!” “If anyone ever did, what would happen?” “His father would beat him on the head, of course!” “Why?’ “Because the request means that he wants his father to die.”

The implication underlying the son’s request is simple. “Father, I cannot wait for you to die. Get out of my way, old man! Drop dead!”

Can we imagine the pain? Some parents today with teenage or grown children have faced just such hurt and humiliation. There can be no greater pain than the ache in our soul when the child we love says those dreaded words, “I hate you Mom!” “I hate you Dad!” Or perhaps we know the pain from the other side. In a moment of bitterness and rage, maybe those death words slipped out of our mouth. “I wish you weren’t my parents!” Or worse, “I hate you!”

Having wished his father dead, this younger son wastes no time collecting his new-found wealth and travelling to a distant country. In our culture, this seems harmless enough. A recent survey of Americans found that 67% of us no longer live in the same state in which we were born. Not so for this young man and his father. In their day, moving away from the family home was a sign of tremendous disrespect. This loving father now feels the same agony as the parents of a runaway child. Such a homeleaving produces immense sorrow and shame in the heart of the father.

Awayness

To understand the father’s pain and the son’s shame, we must place ourselves in the social context of Christ’s parable. In Luke 15:1-2 we read, “Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear him. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘this man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’” The religious leaders of the day are complaining because Jesus does not keep respectable company. He welcomes sinners! He receives and accepts them.

In response, Jesus tells three parables, each portraying the same theme. The portrait Christ is painting impresses upon our senses the truth that sin is awayness. The son moves away from the father. Nothing breaks the heart of God our Father more than His children moving away from Him spiritually.

Why do we all need forgiveness? Why do we all “have it comin,’” as Clint Eastwood says? We all have it comin’ because all of us like sheep have gone astray. All of us, like the prodigal son, have gone our own way. We have chosen to leave our Father and live on our own.

The Rest of the Story

Like a lot of things in life, it gets worse before it gets better. Please join me for Part 2, where we hear the words every sinner speaks to God the Father, “Father, I don’t need You!” Some of us say it in overt rebellion, while others of us say it with cloaked self-righteousness. But we all declare our independence from God.

Join the Conversation

Why do we insist on awayness—on running away from our Father’s home, our Father’s heart?

Tags: Easter, Forgiveness, Good Friday, Jesus, Palm Sunday, Prodigal

The Story

At RPM Ministries our story is all about changing lives with Christ’s changeless truth.

We’re always asking people, “Want to change lives?”

But, what if your life is unchanged? What then? How do you participate in life’s greatest adventure of empowering others to live a changed life if you remain powerless to change?

Then our question for you is entirely different. The new question, really the first question, is “Want a changed life?”

How do people change? Why do people need to change? Change to what?

The story that answers those questions is the story God is telling in the Bible. His story is summarized below. To read about it in narrative form, click below on the image of The Story.

When you’re done, tell us what you think. Ask us any questions that you have. Contact us at rpm.ministries@gmail.com

Tags: Christ, Christianity, Gospel, Salvation, The Story