Well, “thanks be to God through Jesus Christ” (Rom. 7:25) that he did not leave us helpless. Christ came down to us, and the Maker was made in the womb of a virgin. The independent became dependent. God got breastfed. He entered the world to take the human plight of sin upon himself. The Creator God came to his own creation to be rejected and killed by his own people. The hands that God made slapped him. The mouths that God formed spat upon him. “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8). We didn’t clean ourselves up. We didn’t turn our lives around. Even while we were sinners, in the depths of despair, at our very worst, Christ died for us. He was raised from the dead because he never sinned, so death had no power over him. He then ascended into heaven, and now he sits at the right hand of the Father, whence he will come again to judge the living and the dead. When Jesus returns, there will no longer be pain or suffering or cancer or injustice. God will put all wrongs right. “He will wipe away every tear from [our] eyes” (Rev. 21:4).
Before he returns, God is forming a new community in which we are accepted not on the basis of our performance or social status or family background but on the basis of our faith in this Christ who came for us. The beloved community reaches out in love to a dying and broken world, seeking to mend and heal, to take on wounds and bind them up in Christ. This new people is founded on the cross, where guilt is washed away and shame is banished. Since it was founded in grace, there’s no measuring up or jockeying for social position; rather, we are free in love to serve one another beyond natural boundaries and personal preferences.
This is our story, and it frames the answer to the question, “What are we to do?” The doctrines are the drama. And the drama becomes richer and fuller as we understand more dogma, as we read the Bible, study the creeds, know church history. Sayers is right. People may not believe this story. That’s fair. But they would be glad to; they should hope this story is true. You may or may not discern whether the narrative is true, but it’s anything but boring. The dogma is the drama.
THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE
Since the gospel is the truth to be remembered and heard, it’s necessary that we get the gospel right. The apostle Paul is certainly concerned with the gospel of grace. In Galatians he chastises the Judaizers who have tried to add requirements to the free gift of grace. Galatians is Paul’s most hostile letter, because if we get the gospel wrong, we get our lives wrong. The truth is a matter of life and death. What we believe determines how we live.
A bishop in the Anglican church, C. FitzSimons Allison, argues in his book The Cruelty of Heresy that heresy is not simply something that gets the facts wrong. Heresy contains seeds that grow into cruelty. False teaching has victims, and the worse the teaching, the worse the cruelty that results. Souls are hanging in the balance based on the truths we communicate as Christians. Truth is not merely a beneficial tool to help people cope with the demands of life. Orthodox theologian Alexander Schmemann develops this dynamic further when he writes, “For Christianity, help is not the criterion. Truth is the criterion. The purpose of Christianity is not to help people by reconciling them with death but to reveal the Truth about life and death in order that people may be saved by this Truth.”7 The question is not, first, “Does this help or not?” Rather, the question is, “Is it true?” Salvation is at stake. The intensity of our belief or the authenticity of our conduct is not the standard; biblical truth is the standard.
In 1 Corinthians the apostle Paul writes to remind the Corinthian church of the gospel “which you received, in which you stand, and by which you are being saved” (1 Cor. 15:1–2). The gospel is not something we graduate from as we move on to mature things like eschatology (the study of the last things). No, the gospel is for all of life. It’s something that we “received” (past tense), “in which [we] stand” (present tense), and “by which [we] are being saved” (present continuous tense). To the apostle Paul, this reminding is “of first importance” (15:3). In other words, Paul is saying that justification by grace through faith is not only a necessary step in salvation but is the basis of sanctification. As Jonathan Dodson contends, “To be gospel-centered is not only to believe the gospel for salvation but to continually return to it for transformation.”8 The Reformation maintained this important emphasis: having begun by faith, the Christian continues on by faith (cf. Gal. 3:3). We do not get saved by faith and then grow in maturity by works. Faith is the basis, and grace is the motivation, of all spiritual growth. When the doctrines of personal sin and free forgiveness take root in the human soul, transformation happens. These truths must go deeper than intellectual comprehension. They must be known and experienced.
In Richard Lovelace’s important work Renewal as a Way of Life, he examines great revivals of history, from the Reformation to the First Great Awakening, and notes shared elements. From this study he derives the preconditions of renewal, the primary elements of renewal, and the secondary elements of renewal. The preconditions of renewal are an awareness of God’s holiness and an awareness of the depth of sin. In the theological imagination, one leads to the other. We cannot know God without knowing our sinfulness. And knowing ourselves means knowing our limits. As John Calvin contends in his Institutes of the Christian Religion, “The infinitude of good which resides in God becomes more apparent from our poverty. . . . Thus, our feeling of ignorance, vanity, want, weakness, in short, depravity and corruption, reminds us that in the Lord, and none but he, dwell the true light of wisdom, solid virtue, exuberant goodness.”9 Coming to the end of ourselves and our own efforts leads us into the arms of God.
Isaiah 6 provides a fitting biblical example. King Uzziah, a long-lasting and well-loved king, has died, and his death has left a huge void for the people of Israel. Isaiah is given a vision of the throne room of God: it is full of smoke, the train of God’s robe filling the temple, the pillars quaking, the seraphim singing. The prophet has a vision of the true King who sits on the throne, and it’s mysteriously terrifying.10 In light of God’s holiness, Isaiah sees his own and his people’s sinfulness. “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” (Isa. 6:5). A recognition of God’s holiness and our sin is the precondition for revival.
These realizations result in the primary elements of renewal—namely, justification, sanctification, the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, and authority in spiritual conflict. All of these are found in union with Christ. God’s holiness and our sinfulness need to be resolved. Like Isaiah, we need our lips to be cleansed (Isa. 6:6–7). Justification is the truth that Martin Luther rediscovered in the Reformation: there is nothing we can do to earn God’s favor, but it is given freely as a gift through faith. “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21). Justification necessarily leads to our sanctification, as we desire to obey this God who has saved us. The Holy Spirit testifies that we are children of God and cries out to him from within our hearts, saying, “Abba! Father!” (Gal. 4:6; Rom. 8:16; cf. 8:15). Through sanctification we experience greater success in our conflict with sin and see more fruit in our effort in pursuing righteousness. As gospel truths begin to take residence in our hearts, we move from selfish enjoyment to sacrificial love of one another. We turn from our egotistical pleasures and go out into the world, seeking to bring ultimate joy in God to our neighbors. This shift brings us to the secondary elements of renewal: mission, prayer, community, and theological integration. We act out of our understanding of God’s grace, which comes to us in the gospel.
Formation in truth works like this: when we hear the truth, a reality comes to reside deep in our souls, and that truth, as it drives deeper and deeper, causes us to externalize our internal realizations. As the gospel goes deep, our hearts open up to others. And when the gospel reaches our inmost being, we split open to see the needs of our neighbors. The start of this process is a simple acknowledgment of the truth: I am a great sinner, and Christ is a great Savior.
THE IMPORTANCE OF TRUE PREACHING
Martin Luther knew what it was like to doubt. Formed in medieval Catholicism, he never knew whether he was good enough. Sure, perhaps his sins were forgiven, but when would he be accepted? How much did he have to do? How often did he have to confess? What if he forgot to confess certain sins? He drove himself crazy.
In one of these moments of madness, he read the Epistle to the Romans and, with a deeper sense than ever before, saw that “the righteousness of God is a gift of God by which a righteous man lives, namely faith, and that sentence: The righteousness of God is revealed in the Gospel, is passive, indicating that the merciful God justifies us by faith, as it is written: ‘The righteous shall live by faith.’”11 To Luther, it was as if he had entered paradise. He was already accepted by God through faith. He didn’t need to perform or work for his acceptance. His conscience could rest in the grace of Christ by belief.
Luther did not have a problem of doing. He had a problem of knowing. What he needed was a deeper realization of a truth hidden or otherwise unknown. The gospel had to sink in, and in order for that to happen, Luther needed the external Word to do its work. He needed the faith that comes by hearing (Rom. 10:17). He needed a revival of truth.
Martin Luther set out to reform the Catholic Church based on his understanding of justification by grace. Famously, he nailed his Ninety-Five Theses to the Wittenberg church door and began lecturing in the university. Foundational to the Reformation was seeking the truth.12 In the aftermath of the Protestant Reformation, the reforming did not end with what the church believed. Reform meant changing the liturgy and the architecture of the church. The traditional liturgy had two parts: the ministry of the Word and the ministry of the sacrament. The table or altar stood in the center of the front of the church because in the Roman Catholic Church the sacraments were seen as the most important part of formation. In some Reformed churches, the sermon became the central element of a worship service, and the pulpit became the central feature of the space. This shift meant that God was to be heard more than seen. The Reformation changed the focus of worship from the eye to the ear.
The Reformers saw the necessity and centrality of preaching. Each Sunday, when the Word of God was publicly read, Christ spoke. In the tradition of Ezra, who publicly read from the scroll in Nehemiah 8, and of Jesus, who entered a synagogue and took the scroll at the beginning of his ministry, the Protestants held that the Word of God was central to Christian formation. The Reformers were on to something: we must know the truth and remember the truth. This recognition of biblical centrality need not elevate the Bible to the point of reconstituting the Trinity, as in the oft-repeated quip “Father, Son, and Holy Scriptures.” However, the Spirit of God is revealed in the Word of God. The Bible is the Spirit’s means of grace for the people of God.
I came to faith in a tradition that valued and treasured the Bible. The pulpit was in the center of the worship space, and the sermon was the longest portion. The way of spiritual growth was through personal devotions and corporate Bible study. The rest of this book will be adding layers of formation to the foundation of truth. The Bible is important to spiritual formation because truth is important to spiritual formation. The way of blessedness is meditating on this law day and night—Psalm 1 is still true.
Each Sunday, we should come to church with an expectation that God is going to speak to the congregation. We should be on the edge of our seats as the preacher approaches the pulpit. Kids should see parents sitting with their Bibles open, attentive to what God is saying through his Word. Because when God speaks, things happen. The story of the dry bones in Ezekiel 37 is pivotal to my understanding of preaching. In many ways, the manner in which we move from death to life requires the prophetic word coming to us. The preaching of the Word of God is the means God uses to take dead people—really, super-dead people (very dry bones)—and breathe life into them. Spiritually, we are dead. But by the spoken Word, souls go from death to life and begin to walk and move about differently in the world. The message of grace makes us alive to the goodness of God. “Can these bones live?” God asks (Ezek. 37:3). The answer is yes—if God speaks.
HOLISTIC KNOWLEDGE AS WISDOM
While truth is the foundation, there are some inherent limitations to the truth tradition. In some streams, transformation can take a flattened form, as if knowing inevitably leads to doing. Sermons therefore become something like advice giving. “You should really believe this or do this.” But we don’t work in such a streamlined fashion. For example, do you know that sin is bad? Do you know you should pursue righteousness? Do you know you’re forgiven? I’m guessing you have some degree of realization of these truths, yet that does not mean you have entirely stopped sinning. If only it were that easy!
Another limitation of the truth tradition is that the pursuit and propagation of truth are sometimes practiced according to a naturalistic approach that fails to factor in God’s grace and that has no place for mystery and wonder: truth can be believed when it is certain, and it is certain when I explain it. This kind of tight rationalism is inadequate. Biblical truth does not explain away mystery but enhances it. We never “master” biblical truth; biblical truth masters us. The result is wonder and humility, not smugness and pride.
In this last section of the chapter, I want to expand our understanding of truth beyond mere knowledge to include wisdom. In seeking the truth, we are not trying to know more things as if we were studying for a test. Biblical literacy does not mean mere memorization. Knowing the Bible serves the purpose of helping us be rightly attached to the truths of Scripture.
Theologian Ellen Charry compares theology to medicine. There is such a thing as good practice of medicine and also such a thing as bad practice, or malpractice. The same is true in theology. First, good practice of medicine requires knowledge. Physicians undergo years of training in medical school, including exams, evaluations, and so on. Theology likewise requires knowledge, not only of the Scriptures but of church history, the creeds, and Christian tradition. We stand on the shoulders of our church fathers and mothers to see the Bible with greater clarity. Theologians need robust training and deep wells of resources from which to draw. Knowledge is foundational.
Second, good practice involves highly skilled judgment. Truth is not a static thing to be applied once for all; each situation calls for a different judgment. In medical practice, patients change and may not indicate the right symptoms if the doctor asks the wrong questions. And even if the doctor knows all the diseases in the world, they need to know how to discern and distinguish diseases. This requires skill that, in turn, requires practice. Likewise, in theology the truth of Scripture is unchanging, yet how that truth applies will be different based on whom the practitioner is applying the remedy to: Is this person doubting or prideful? Is she a new Christian or mature Christian? Is he young or old? We need skilled judgment to administer the gospel medicine rightly. We need to ask the right questions, provide honest answers, and see the situation clearly.
Third, Charry notes that good practice requires trust and obedience. Without a board certifying the doctor, the patient will not trust the diagnosis or remedy. We want to know that the person we are taking advice from is trustworthy, or we won’t act on their information. Care, which is how one builds trust, is not an auxiliary component of theological practice but rather is essential. Everyone who is in the church long enough will meet an exceptionally smart Christian who knows a lot of the Bible but is a jerk. The truth they have is not the problem; the way they wield it is. Such people view gospel truth not as medicine but as a sword. We can usually tell that they love being right more than they love other people. It’s hard to trust that kind of person. Good truth treatment must include care.13
In our journey to be wise theologians, the way we encounter the truth also impacts the wisdom we glean. The Bible is not a scientific textbook. You can read the text “literally” for certain reasons, yet you will be limited in the truths you find that way. A. W. Pink argues that there are many ways to read Scripture: educationally, professionally, historically, inquisitively, and so on. He maintains that though these ways of reading may add something to our understanding, they can be disordered ways of reading. Pink argues, “Our end in perusing His Word should be to learn how to please and glorify Him, and that, by our characters being formed under its holy influence and our conduct regulated in all its details by the rules He has there laid down. The mind needs instructing, but unless the conscience be searched, the heart influenced, the will moved, such knowledge will only puff us up and add to our condemnation.”14 Truth needs to take root not only in the head but also in the heart if it is to lead to true wisdom. If we know the truth but don’t practice it, then we don’t really know it.
CONCLUSION
As I mentioned earlier, I grew up in a tradition that loves the Bible—and rightfully so. I now belong to another tradition that also loves the Bible, but formation in this tradition, Anglicanism, is richer than “the Bible or bust.” Nevertheless, Anglicanism has two foundational documents called the Books of Homilies. These books are compilations of sermons that parish priests read aloud to their churches to ensure consistent truth was proclaimed in their churches. The first sermon, called “A Fruitful Exhortation to the Reading of Holy Scripture,” offers a reminder about how important truth is. The homily ends this way:
Let us be glad to review this precious gift of our heavenly Father. Let us hear, read, and know these holy rules, injunctions, and statutes of our Christian religion, and upon that we have made profession to GOD at our baptism. Let us with fear and reverence lay up (in the chest of our hearts) these necessary and fruitful lessons. Let us night and day muse, and have meditation and contemplation in them. Let us ruminate, and (as it were) chew the cud, that we may have the sweet juice, spiritual effect, marrow, honey, kernel, taste, comfort and consolation of them (Ps. 56:4). Let us stay, quiet, and certify our consciences, with the most infallible certainty, truth, and perpetual assurance of them. Let us pray to GOD (the only author of these heavenly studies) that we may speak, think, believe, live and depart hence, according to the wholesome doctrine, and verities of them.
And by that means, in this world we shall have GOD’S defense, favor, and grace, with the unspeakable solace of peace, and quietness of conscience, and after this miserable life, we shall enjoy the endless bliss and glory of heaven: which he grant us all that died for us all, Jesus Christ, to whom with the Father and the holy Ghost, be all honor and glory, both now and everlastingly.15
Yes and amen. It’s the truth.
1. MacIntyre, After Virtue, 216.
2. Hauerwas, “End of American Protestantism” (emphasis added).
3. Hauerwas, Community of Character, 10.
4. Sayers, Letters to a Diminished Church, 1.
5. C. S. Lewis writes, “Now the story of Christ is simply a true myth: a myth working on us the same way as the others, but with this tremendous difference that it really happened: and one must be content to accept it in the same way, remembering that it is God’s myth where the others are men’s myths” (Lewis, Collected Letters of C. S. Lewis, 1:997).
6. Sayers, Letters to a Diminished Church, 20.
7. Schmemann, For the Life of the World, 120.
