Salvation by Propitiation

 Kevin DeYoung  

There are many biblical ways to describe Christian salvation.

Salvation can be understood ritually as a sacrifice, as the expiation of guilt through the death of Christ on the cross.

Salvation can be understood commercially as redemption, as a payment made through the blood of Christ for the debt we owe because of sin.

Salvation can be understood relationally as reconciliation, as the coming together of estranged parties by means of Christ’s at-one-ment.

Salvation can be understood legally as justification, as the declaration that sins have been forgiven and that the sinner stands blameless before God because of the imputation of Christ’s righteousness.

There is, of course, more that can be said about salvation. But each description above captures something important about the nature of Christ’s saving work.

And each description holds together because the death of Christ is—not over and above these images, but inherent and essential to these images—a propitiation.

Propitiation is used in the New Testament to describe the pacifying, placating, or appeasing of God’s wrath. The easiest way to remember the term is that in propitiation God is made pro-us. Unlike expiation, propitiation has a relational component to it. Christ’s death not only removed the moral stain of sin; it also removed the personal offense of sin.

The English word propitiation comes from the hilasmos word group in Greek and almost always refers in the ancient world (when applied to God) to appeasing or averting divine anger. The root word is used several times in the New Testament—as hilasmos (1 John 2:2; 4:10), as hilaskomai (Heb. 2:17; Luke 18:13), and as hilasterion (Rom. 3:25; Heb. 9:5). The term is clearly a biblical word and a biblical concept.

Over the years, many have objected to propitiation, arguing that notions of God’s anger are not befitting a God of love. Critics think propitiation makes God rather like some petty, blood-thirsty pagan deity who must be bought off with a bribe. But God’s wrath is not arbitrary and capricious; it is part of his immutable justice and holiness. In the Old Testament there are more than 20 different words used to express Yahweh’s wrath, totaling more than 580 occurrences. And with John the Baptist’s warning about the wrath to come (Matt. 3:7), Jesus’s declaration that wrath remains on the unbelieving sinner (John 3:36), and John’s imagery of the wrath of the Lamb (Rev. 6:16), we cannot make the New Testament a “good cop” to the Old Testament’s supposed “bad cop.”

The wrath of the biblical God is distinct from the peeved god of the pagans in at least three ways.

(1) The God of the Bible is eternal and immutable, never losing his temper, flying off the handle, or judging his creatures capriciously.

(2) The God of the Bible is not appeased by a bribe, but by his own blood (Acts 20:28).

(3) The God of the Bible, though justly angry with sin and with sinners, nevertheless sent his Son to be our propitiatory sacrifice out of love. The death of Christ did not make God love us. The electing love of God planned for the once-for-all sacrifice of Jesus. “In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 John 4:10). The God who has always been for us in eternity sent his Son in time to be the wrath-absorbing sacrifice that we might enjoy peace with God for ages unending.

Leon Morris beautiful describes propitiation in his classic work The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross:

Propitiation is understood as springing from the love of God. Among the heathen, propitiation was thought of as an activity whereby the worshiper was able himself to provide that which would induce a change of mind in the deity.

In plain language he bribed his god to be favourable to him. When the term was taken over into the Bible these unworthy and crude ideas were abandoned, and only the central truth expressed by the term was retained, namely that propitiation signifies the averting of wrath by the offering of a gift. But in both Testaments the thought is plain that the gift which secures the propitiation is from God Himself. He provides the way whereby men may come to Him.

Thus the use of the concept of propitiation witnesses to two great realities, the one, the reality and seriousness of the divine reaction against sin, and the other, the reality and the greatness of the divine love which provided the gift which should avert the wrath from me.

Because of this propitious gift, our sins can be removed, our debt can be paid, our relationship restored, and our legal status irrevocable altered. Jesus Christ is our righteous advocate (1 John 2:1), the one who turns away the wrath of God that was justly against us. And he does so—wonderfully and freely—not by pleading our innocence, but by presenting his bloody work on our behalf, so that in him we who were deserving of nought but judgment, might become the very righteousness of God (2 Cor. 5:21).

Posted at: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/kevin-deyoung/salvation-by-propitiation/

Say No to the Gospel of Self-Forgiveness

By John Beeson   

She sits in my office, tears running down her face. Two years ago her mother died in hospice while she lay asleep at home. She was trying to get a decent night’s rest after days spent at her mother’s side. “I just can’t forgive myself. I let her die alone. I knew I should have been there, but I was selfish. I can never forgive myself for that.”

Dozens have shared similar confessions with me. Does this resonate with you? What guilt do you bear? What burdens are you carrying because you can’t forgive yourself? If Christ has forgiven you, do you also have to forgive yourself?

If Christ has forgiven you, do you also have to forgive yourself?

Many are trapped because they can’t forgive themselves. My friend isn’t alone. And she feels trapped. Because she’ll never hear her mother offer her forgiveness, she feels like she can’t release herself from guilt.

What Does Scripture Say?  

Why can’t you release yourself from your sin? Is it because the weight is too much? Because you know you haven’t changed? Because the ripple effects of your sin can’t be reversed?

I have good news—such good news. You don’t need to forgive yourself, because you can’t forgive yourself.

I know, this answer sounds foreign. Our contemporary therapeutic culture tells us that self-forgiveness is not only a category of forgiveness, it’s actually the most important of them all. Writing in Psychology Today, psychotherapist Beverly Engel says, “I believe that self-forgiveness is the most powerful step you can take to rid yourself of debilitating shame.” But here’s the vital question for Christians: Can you point to one example in Scripture of someone forgiving themselves?

There is no category of self-forgiveness in the Bible. And what a freeing truth! Your shame and guilt does not depend on your ability to forgive yourself.

Two Kinds of Forgiveness

There are two—and only two—biblical categories of forgiveness: others’ forgiveness and God’s forgiveness. Horizontal and vertical.

Horizontal forgiveness marks us as Christians. Seeking the forgiveness of others is not optional. Forgiving one another is not optional. Paul writes:

Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. (Col. 3:12–13)

It’s not enough to ask forgiveness from God; we must also ask forgiveness from those we’ve injured.

I have good news—such good news. You don’t need to forgive yourself, because you can’t forgive yourself.

As important as horizontal forgiveness is, even more fundamental is vertical forgiveness, which comes from God alone. After committing the heinous double sin of adultery and murder against Bathsheba and Uriah, David cries out to God: “Against you, you only, have I sinned!” (Ps. 51:4). How can David say this? Is he minimizing his horrifying sins against Uriah and Bathsheba?

Hardly.

David realizes that as awful as his sin is horizontally, it’s much worse vertically. He has profoundly offended his Creator—and the Creator of Uriah and Bathsheba—by devaluing one life and snuffing out another. He has offended his righteous, covenant-making God with his wicked, covenant-breaking actions.

Sing! You’re Forgiven.

But you know what David never walks through? The process of self-forgiveness. He doesn’t entertain for a second that he must forgive himself or that, once he’s sought forgiveness from God, he must self-flagellate to fully release himself from his sin. In fact, David would probably shock modern therapeutic sensibilities with how quickly he feels release. He admits that, once forgiven, he will have the audacity to sing: “Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God, O God of my salvation, and my tongue will sing aloud of your righteousness” (Ps. 51:14).

Have you experienced such freedom? Have you ever felt the complete forgiveness of God so deeply that you had to sing with joy?

Vertical forgiveness allows you to experience the power and release that comes through the cross—and then it sends you back to the horizontal, where you are made right in community.

Dear fellow sinners, does guilt plague you? Seek forgiveness from those whom you have sinned against. Seek forgiveness from God your Rescuer, who has purchased your salvation through the death of Jesus. And then sing! Celebrate your forgiveness. Enjoy your freedom.

John Beeson serves as associate teaching pastor at New Life Bible Fellowship in Tucson, Arizona. He attended Gordon College and Princeton Theological Seminary, and is married with two kids. He blogs at http://www.thebeehive.live/

Posted at: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/say-no-gospel-self-forgiveness/

Toward a Theology of Apology

By Kevin DeYoung

We need more work in the years ahead—exegetical, historical, and doctrinal—on our theology of apology.

For starters, the word itself is ambiguous. Apology can mean anything from “let me defend myself,” to “my bad,” to “I’m sorry you feel that way,” to “I repent in deepest contrition.” We could use more careful language to express what we mean (and don’t mean) to communicate.

Apologies are also complicated by history. What is our responsibility in the present to apologize for things that have happened in the past? Should Christians apologize for the Crusades? For the Salem Witch Trials? For slavery? Some apologies for the past are appropriate and heartfelt, while others feel less sincere and more manufactured.

And then there is the presence of social media, which gives us all the opportunity to make public apologies (or demand them of others). When are public apologies profound examples of humility and healing, and when do they cross the line into implicit rebuke and moral grandstanding? These are issues of the heart to be sure, but they are also biblical and theological issues.

Moving in the Right Direction (Maybe)

The “Toward” in the title of this post is important. It’s the academic way of saying, “I don’t have this all figured out, but maybe I have something helpful to throw into the mix, so here goes.” With my weasel word firmly in place, here are two suggestions for Christians as we formulate a theology of apology.

Suggestion #1

First, let’s utilize the category of corporate responsibility, but within limits.

The book of Acts is an illuminating case study in this respect. We see, on the one hand, that people can be held responsible for sins they may not have directly carried out. In Acts 2, Peter charges the “[m]en of Judea and all who dwell in Jerusalem” (v. 14) with crucifying Jesus (v. 23, 36). To be sure, they did this by the hands of lawless men (v. 23), but as Jews present in Jerusalem during Passion Week, they bore some responsibility for Jesus’s death. Likewise, Peter charged the men of Israel gathered at Solomon’s Portico with delivering Jesus over and denying him in the presence of Pilate (Acts 3:11-16). While we don’t know if every single person in the Acts 3 crowd had chosen Barabbas over Christ, Peter certainly felt comfortable in laying the crucifixion at their feet. Most, if not all of them, had played an active role in the events leading up to Jesus’s death. This was a sin in need of repentance (v. 19, 26). We see the same in Acts 4:10 and 5:30 where Peter and John charge the council (i.e., the Sanhedrin) with killing Jesus. In short, the Jews in Jerusalem during Jesus’s last days bore responsibility for his murder.

Once the action leaves Jerusalem, however, the charges start to sound different. In speaking to Cornelius (a Gentile), his relatives, and close friends, Peter relays that they (the Jews in Jerusalem) put Jesus to death (10:39). Even more specifically, Paul tells the crowd in Pisidian Antioch that “those who live in Jerusalem and their rulers” condemned Jesus (Acts 13:27). This speech is especially important because Paul is talking to Jews. He does not blame the Jews in Pisidian Antioch with the crimes of the Jews in Jerusalem.

This is a consistent pattern. Paul doesn’t charge the Jews in Thessalonica or Berea with killing Jesus (Acts 17), nor the Jews in Corinth (Acts 18) or in Ephesus (Acts 19). In fact, when Paul returns to Jerusalem years after the crucifixion, he does not accuse the Jews there of killing Jesus; he does not even charge the council with that crime (Acts 23). He doesn’t blame Felix (Acts 24) or Festus (Acts 25) or Agrippa (Acts 26) for Jesus’s death, even though they are all men in authority connected in some way with the governing apparatus that killed Christ. The apostles considered the Jews in Jerusalem at the time of the crucifixion uniquely responsible for Jesus’s death, but this culpability did not extend to every high-ranking official, to every Jew, or to everyone who would live in Jerusalem thereafter. The rest of the Jews and Gentiles in the book of Acts still had to repent of their wickedness, but they were not charged with killing the Messiah.

Does this mean there is never any place for corporate culpability across time and space? No. In Matthew 23:35, Jesus charges the Scribes and Pharisees with murdering Zechariah the son of Barachiah. Although there is disagreement about who this Zechariah is, most scholars agree he is a figure from the past who was not killed in their lifetimes. The fact that the Scribes and Pharisees were treating Jesus with contempt put them in the same category as their ancestors who had also treated God’s prophets with contempt (cf. Acts 7:51-53). It could rightly be said that they murdered Zechariah between the sanctuary and the altar because they shared in the same spirit of hate as the murderers in Zechariah’s day.

Similarly, we see several examples of corporate confession in the Old Testament. As God’s covenant people, the Israelites were commanded to confess their sins and turn from their wicked ways so as to come out from under the divinely sanctioned covenant curses (2 Chron. 6:12-42; 7:13-18). This is why we see the likes of Ezra (Ezra 9-10), Nehemiah (Neh. 1:4-11), and Daniel (Dan. 9:3-19) leading in corporate confession. The Jews were not lumped together because of race, ethnicity, geography, education level, or socio-economic status. The Israelites had freely entered into a covenant relationship with each other and with their God. In all three examples above, the leader entered into corporate confession because (1) he was praying for the covenant people, (2) the people were as a whole marked by unfaithfulness, and (3) the leader himself bore some responsibility for the actions of the people, either by having been blind to the sin (Ezra 9:3) or by participating directly in the sin (Neh. 9:6; Dan. 9:20).

To sum up: The Bible has a category for corporate responsibility. Culpability for sins committed can extend to a large group if virtually everyone in the group was active in the sin (it is telling, however, that the apostles don’t seem to think they killed Jesus, even though they were in Jerusalem at that time). We can also be held responsible for sins committed long ago if we bear the same spiritual resemblance to the perpetrators of the past. And yet, the category of corporate responsibility can be stretched too far. The Jews of the diaspora were not guilty of killing Jesus just because they were Jews. Neither were later Jews in Jerusalem charged with that crime just because they lived in the place where the crucifixion took place. And we must differentiate between other-designated identity blocs and freely chosen covenantal communities. Moral complicity is not strictly individualistic, but it has its limits.

Which leads to a second point.

Suggestion #2

Let’s try using more precise categories when apologizing for the past.

As I said at the beginning, our apologizing words don’t always mean the same thing. “I’m sorry” can mean “I feel bad that you are hurting” all the way to “I sinned against God and men.” Likewise, people may use “blame” to mean “I could have done more” or “I feel deep contrition for my wickedness.” We need some additional categories for expressing grief over wrongs committed.

I can think of at least four things we might mean by making an apology for something in the past.

• Recognition: I acknowledge what happened, and I see the negative effects of those sins of omission or commission.

• Remorse: I feel terrible for what has happened.

• Renunciation: I reject what has taken place in the past and repudiate those beliefs, words, thoughts, or actions.

• Repentance: I have sinned against God and will turn away from this evil and strive after greater obedience to God’s law in my life.

Each aspect of apology has its place, but all may not be present in every instance of saying, “I’m sorry.” Sometimes we get tied up in knots making public apologies of corporate sin because we are unsure how to repent of sins we didn’t commit, when a more appropriate (and equally salutary) step might be to recognize what happened and express our remorse over what transpired in the past, while utterly renouncing those attitudes and actions wherever they exist in the present.

[I suppose you could make restitution a fifth aspect of apologizing, but I would include this under repentance. When Zacchaeus declared his intentions to pay back four-times the amount he defrauded from others—in keeping with Old Testament law (Exod. 22:1)—Jesus took this as a sign of genuine faith and repentance (Luke 19:8-9). While the law at Sinai never tried to enforce a vision of cosmic justice whereby every inequality was abolished, it did command God’s people to make restitution for wrongs committed (Exod. 21:33-22:15) and to be openhanded to the needy (Exod. 22:21-27).]

Is There Room for We?

Of course, things get even trickier if we change those “I” statements to “we” statements. When am I responsible for something as a “we” that I may not be responsible for as an “I”? That depends on a lot of factors. We’ve already seen that Paul did not ask the Jews in Pisidian Antioch to repent of killing Jesus just because they were Jews. And yet, that doesn’t put an end to all corporate responsibility.

Consider two examples.

If you’ll permit a grim analogy, suppose you are the parent of a child who ends up a mass shooter. You raised your child with love and discipline. You didn’t encourage any destructive or hateful tendencies. You were a good (if still imperfect) parent, and your other children turned out fine. When the camera comes on you for a statement, you may not repent per se (since you don’t feel like you sinned in how you raised your now-25-year-old son), but you would certainly be right to recognize what has happened, express profound remorse (probably even saying “I’m sorry”), and renounce violence of this kind.

But consider a second example. Suppose you never disciplined your child for violent behavior. You saw his disturbing journals and did nothing about it. In fact, as a parent, you often told your son that people of color, or people with disabilities, or people with athletic chops, or pretty girls, or whatever, were losers and didn’t deserve to live. Now when you find out what your son has done, what do you say? Even though you didn’t commit a crime, you would be right to issue a “we” statement that includes repentance. Your actions played a direct role in the tragedy.

It’s messy, isn’t it? Someone can always say that you were a part of “a culture” that produced someone or something. But I think we need a tighter argument. The apostles didn’t argue that the culture of first-century Judaism killed Jesus; the Jews in Jerusalem, by the hands of the Romans, killed Jesus. Our corporate apologies would be helped if we looked at the differences between recognition, remorse, renunciation, and repentance.

Similarly, public apologies are more or less appropriate based on whether their cost is mainly to us or mainly to someone else. When someone steeped in Southern Presbyterianism apologizes in tears for the sins of the 19th-century Presbyterians he grew up revering, that costs something. When college kids, who have never been tempted in their lives to idolize Richard the Lionheart, set up confessional booths on campus to apologize for the Crusades, that costs next to nothing. One is a public expression of personal lament; the other is a personal expression of public accusation.

All of this means that the stronger the ties that bind, the stronger the argument for corporate identification. On the one hand, some Christians are quick to apologize for anything and everything (and quicker to demand apologies from everyone else). On the other hand, there are too many examples in the Bible of God’s covenant people confessing their sins together to immediately dismiss every attempt to address corporate sins of the past or the present. Even if we don’t issue a formal statement of repentance, there is still a place for churches, denominations, and other institutions to express the other three R’s. Our theology of apology must be sufficiently nuanced to allow that “We are sorry” can be appropriate even in situations where insisting on moral complicity may not be. If the Sanhedrin in AD 90 had come to Christ en masse, they wouldn’t have had to repent for killing Jesus, but we would certainly have taken it as a good sign if they had expressed the deepest remorse over his crucifixion and renounced the opposition to Jesus that lead to his death.

Posted at: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/kevin-deyoung/toward-theology-apology/

Toward a Theology of Apology

Kevin DeYoung

We need more work in the years ahead—exegetical, historical, and doctrinal—on our theology of apology.

For starters, the word itself is ambiguous. Apology can mean anything from “let me defend myself,” to “my bad,” to “I’m sorry you feel that way,” to “I repent in deepest contrition.” We could use more careful language to express what we mean (and don’t mean) to communicate.

Apologies are also complicated by history. What is our responsibility in the present to apologize for things that have happened in the past? Should Christians apologize for the Crusades? For the Salem Witch Trials? For slavery? Some apologies for the past are appropriate and heartfelt, while others feel less sincere and more manufactured.

And then there is the presence of social media, which gives us all the opportunity to make public apologies (or demand them of others). When are public apologies profound examples of humility and healing, and when do they cross the line into implicit rebuke and moral grandstanding? These are issues of the heart to be sure, but they are also biblical and theological issues.

Moving in the Right Direction (Maybe)

The “Toward” in the title of this post is important. It’s the academic way of saying, “I don’t have this all figured out, but maybe I have something helpful to throw into the mix, so here goes.” With my weasel word firmly in place, here are two suggestions for Christians as we formulate a theology of apology.

Suggestion #1

First, let’s utilize the category of corporate responsibility, but within limits.

The book of Acts is an illuminating case study in this respect. We see, on the one hand, that people can be held responsible for sins they may not have directly carried out. In Acts 2, Peter charges the “[m]en of Judea and all who dwell in Jerusalem” (v. 14) with crucifying Jesus (v. 23, 36). To be sure, they did this by the hands of lawless men (v. 23), but as Jews present in Jerusalem during Passion Week, they bore some responsibility for Jesus’s death. Likewise, Peter charged the men of Israel gathered at Solomon’s Portico with delivering Jesus over and denying him in the presence of Pilate (Acts 3:11-16). While we don’t know if every single person in the Acts 3 crowd had chosen Barabbas over Christ, Peter certainly felt comfortable in laying the crucifixion at their feet. Most, if not all of them, had played an active role in the events leading up to Jesus’s death. This was a sin in need of repentance (v. 19, 26). We see the same in Acts 4:10 and 5:30 where Peter and John charge the council (i.e., the Sanhedrin) with killing Jesus. In short, the Jews in Jerusalem during Jesus’s last days bore responsibility for his murder.

Once the action leaves Jerusalem, however, the charges start to sound different. In speaking to Cornelius (a Gentile), his relatives, and close friends, Peter relays that they (the Jews in Jerusalem) put Jesus to death (10:39). Even more specifically, Paul tells the crowd in Pisidian Antioch that “those who live in Jerusalem and their rulers” condemned Jesus (Acts 13:27). This speech is especially important because Paul is talking to Jews. He does not blame the Jews in Pisidian Antioch with the crimes of the Jews in Jerusalem.

This is a consistent pattern. Paul doesn’t charge the Jews in Thessalonica or Berea with killing Jesus (Acts 17), nor the Jews in Corinth (Acts 18) or in Ephesus (Acts 19). In fact, when Paul returns to Jerusalem years after the crucifixion, he does not accuse the Jews there of killing Jesus; he does not even charge the council with that crime (Acts 23). He doesn’t blame Felix (Acts 24) or Festus (Acts 25) or Agrippa (Acts 26) for Jesus’s death, even though they are all men in authority connected in some way with the governing apparatus that killed Christ. The apostles considered the Jews in Jerusalem at the time of the crucifixion uniquely responsible for Jesus’s death, but this culpability did not extend to every high-ranking official, to every Jew, or to everyone who would live in Jerusalem thereafter. The rest of the Jews and Gentiles in the book of Acts still had to repent of their wickedness, but they were not charged with killing the Messiah.

Does this mean there is never any place for corporate culpability across time and space? No. In Matthew 23:35, Jesus charges the Scribes and Pharisees with murdering Zechariah the son of Barachiah. Although there is disagreement about who this Zechariah is, most scholars agree he is a figure from the past who was not killed in their lifetimes. The fact that the Scribes and Pharisees were treating Jesus with contempt put them in the same category as their ancestors who had also treated God’s prophets with contempt (cf. Acts 7:51-53). It could rightly be said that they murdered Zechariah between the sanctuary and the altar because they shared in the same spirit of hate as the murderers in Zechariah’s day.

Similarly, we see several examples of corporate confession in the Old Testament. As God’s covenant people, the Israelites were commanded to confess their sins and turn from their wicked ways so as to come out from under the divinely sanctioned covenant curses (2 Chron. 6:12-42; 7:13-18). This is why we see the likes of Ezra (Ezra 9-10), Nehemiah (Neh. 1:4-11), and Daniel (Dan. 9:3-19) leading in corporate confession. The Jews were not lumped together because of race, ethnicity, geography, education level, or socio-economic status. The Israelites had freely entered into a covenant relationship with each other and with their God. In all three examples above, the leader entered into corporate confession because (1) he was praying for the covenant people, (2) the people were as a whole marked by unfaithfulness, and (3) the leader himself bore some responsibility for the actions of the people, either by having been blind to the sin (Ezra 9:3) or by participating directly in the sin (Neh. 9:6; Dan. 9:20).

To sum up: The Bible has a category for corporate responsibility. Culpability for sins committed can extend to a large group if virtually everyone in the group was active in the sin (it is telling, however, that the apostles don’t seem to think they killed Jesus, even though they were in Jerusalem at that time). We can also be held responsible for sins committed long ago if we bear the same spiritual resemblance to the perpetrators of the past. And yet, the category of corporate responsibility can be stretched too far. The Jews of the diaspora were not guilty of killing Jesus just because they were Jews. Neither were later Jews in Jerusalem charged with that crime just because they lived in the place where the crucifixion took place. And we must differentiate between other-designated identity blocs and freely chosen covenantal communities. Moral complicity is not strictly individualistic, but it has its limits.

Which leads to a second point.

Suggestion #2

Let’s try using more precise categories when apologizing for the past.

As I said at the beginning, our apologizing words don’t always mean the same thing. “I’m sorry” can mean “I feel bad that you are hurting” all the way to “I sinned against God and men.” Likewise, people may use “blame” to mean “I could have done more” or “I feel deep contrition for my wickedness.” We need some additional categories for expressing grief over wrongs committed.

I can think of at least four things we might mean by making an apology for something in the past.

• Recognition: I acknowledge what happened, and I see the negative effects of those sins of omission or commission.

• Remorse: I feel terrible for what has happened.

• Renunciation: I reject what has taken place in the past and repudiate those beliefs, words, thoughts, or actions.

• Repentance: I have sinned against God and will turn away from this evil and strive after greater obedience to God’s law in my life.

Each aspect of apology has its place, but all may not be present in every instance of saying, “I’m sorry.” Sometimes we get tied up in knots making public apologies of corporate sin because we are unsure how to repent of sins we didn’t commit, when a more appropriate (and equally salutary) step might be to recognize what happened and express our remorse over what transpired in the past, while utterly renouncing those attitudes and actions wherever they exist in the present.

[I suppose you could make restitution a fifth aspect of apologizing, but I would include this under repentance. When Zacchaeus declared his intentions to pay back four-times the amount he defrauded from others—in keeping with Old Testament law (Exod. 22:1)—Jesus took this as a sign of genuine faith and repentance (Luke 19:8-9). While the law at Sinai never tried to enforce a vision of cosmic justice whereby every inequality was abolished, it did command God’s people to make restitution for wrongs committed (Exod. 21:33-22:15) and to be openhanded to the needy (Exod. 22:21-27).]

Is There Room for We?

Of course, things get even trickier if we change those “I” statements to “we” statements. When am I responsible for something as a “we” that I may not be responsible for as an “I”? That depends on a lot of factors. We’ve already seen that Paul did not ask the Jews in Pisidian Antioch to repent of killing Jesus just because they were Jews. And yet, that doesn’t put an end to all corporate responsibility.

Consider two examples.

If you’ll permit a grim analogy, suppose you are the parent of a child who ends up a mass shooter. You raised your child with love and discipline. You didn’t encourage any destructive or hateful tendencies. You were a good (if still imperfect) parent, and your other children turned out fine. When the camera comes on you for a statement, you may not repent per se (since you don’t feel like you sinned in how you raised your now-25-year-old son), but you would certainly be right to recognize what has happened, express profound remorse (probably even saying “I’m sorry”), and renounce violence of this kind.

But consider a second example. Suppose you never disciplined your child for violent behavior. You saw his disturbing journals and did nothing about it. In fact, as a parent, you often told your son that people of color, or people with disabilities, or people with athletic chops, or pretty girls, or whatever, were losers and didn’t deserve to live. Now when you find out what your son has done, what do you say? Even though you didn’t commit a crime, you would be right to issue a “we” statement that includes repentance. Your actions played a direct role in the tragedy.

It’s messy, isn’t it? Someone can always say that you were a part of “a culture” that produced someone or something. But I think we need a tighter argument. The apostles didn’t argue that the culture of first-century Judaism killed Jesus; the Jews in Jerusalem, by the hands of the Romans, killed Jesus. Our corporate apologies would be helped if we looked at the differences between recognition, remorse, renunciation, and repentance.

Similarly, public apologies are more or less appropriate based on whether their cost is mainly to us or mainly to someone else. When someone steeped in Southern Presbyterianism apologizes in tears for the sins of the 19th-century Presbyterians he grew up revering, that costs something. When college kids, who have never been tempted in their lives to idolize Richard the Lionheart, set up confessional booths on campus to apologize for the Crusades, that costs next to nothing. One is a public expression of personal lament; the other is a personal expression of public accusation.

All of this means that the stronger the ties that bind, the stronger the argument for corporate identification. On the one hand, some Christians are quick to apologize for anything and everything (and quicker to demand apologies from everyone else). On the other hand, there are too many examples in the Bible of God’s covenant people confessing their sins together to immediately dismiss every attempt to address corporate sins of the past or the present. Even if we don’t issue a formal statement of repentance, there is still a place for churches, denominations, and other institutions to express the other three R’s. Our theology of apology must be sufficiently nuanced to allow that “We are sorry” can be appropriate even in situations where insisting on moral complicity may not be. If the Sanhedrin in AD 90 had come to Christ en masse, they wouldn’t have had to repent for killing Jesus, but we would certainly have taken it as a good sign if they had expressed the deepest remorse over his crucifixion and renounced the opposition to Jesus that lead to his death.

Posted at: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/kevin-deyoung/toward-theology-apology/

8 Steps to Real Repentance From Psalm 51

Article by Catherine Parks

My brother and I had a nightly childhood ritual of asking one another’s forgiveness for a list of vague sins. Having been warned not to let the sun go down on our anger, we made sure to cover all possibilities of sins we may have committed during the day. “Aaron, I’m sorry for yelling at you, hitting you, being selfish with the Nintendo, and tattling on you today. Will you forgive me?” His answer, along with his own confession, came back to my room in return. Thus we slept in the peace of the slightly remorseful.

When I read Psalm 51 (written by David after the prophet Nathan confronted him with his sin), I realize how lacking my childhood confessions were. Even many of my confessions in adulthood leave much to be desired.

Often we treat repentance as a statement—an “I’m sorry, please forgive me” that checks a box and (hopefully) alleviates our guilt. But if we look closely at Psalm 51, we see that repentance is a turning away from sin and a turning toward God—a process that doesn’t merely alleviate guilt but cultivates deep joy.

So how do we grow in a joy-giving habit of repentance? Here are eight steps.

1. Define the sin.

The first step to meaningful confession is understanding what sin is. David uses three different words for it in Psalm 51: “iniquity,” “sin,” and “transgressions” (vv. 1–3). Each term has been deliberately chosen for its unique meaning. “Transgression” is rebellion against God’s authority and law, “iniquity” is a distortion of what should be, and “sin” is missing the mark. David also says his sin is deep—there is no minimizing or excusing it.

2. Appeal to God’s mercy.

The psalm begins: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love” (v. 1). Here, David appeals for forgiveness based on what he knows about God’s character: that he is merciful. David knows God is committed to him in a relationship of “unfailing love”—and when we come before God in repentance, we do so because of his covenant with us through Christ.

3. Avoid defensiveness and see God rightly.

David’s sin hurt multiple people. He committed adultery, orchestrated a murder, and tried to cover it all up. And yet he says to God, “against you, you only, have I sinned” (v. 4). How can that be? Sin is missing the mark—God’s mark. Our sin does hurt others, and we must seek forgiveness from them, but all sin is ultimately against God.

4. Look to Jesus.

David writes, “Cleanse me with hyssop, and I shall be clean” (v. 7). He knows hyssop signifies purification with blood (see Ex. 24), and he knows that blood alone can make him clean. What he doesn’t know is exactly how this will be done. But we do. We have the full revelation of Jesus, who “has appeared once for all at the culmination of the ages to do away with sin by the sacrifice of himself” (Heb. 9:26).

5. Ask God to break and heal you.

David prays, “Let the bones you have crushed rejoice” (v. 8). When God reveals our sin to us, it’s painful. It’s never pleasant to confront just how unholy we are. But like a doctor resetting a fractured bone, it is God who breaks, God who sets, and God who heals.

6. Be comforted by the Spirit.

Next David prays, “Do not . . . take your Holy Spirit from me” (v. 11). But the fact that David is grieved over his sin is a sign that the Spirit is at work in him. Have you ever been so discouraged by your sin that you’ve wondered, How can God love me? Surely I’m not really a Christian. Take comfort in knowing that the grief you’re experiencing is a sign that you have the Holy Spirit working in you, causing you to hate what God hates.

7. Rejoice and proclaim truth.

In verses 12–15, David asks God to make him so joyful about his salvation that he can’t help but proclaim the gospel to others: “Open my lips, Lord, and my mouth will declare your praise.” This is important, because so often we do the opposite—we wallow in our sin and draw back from serving others because we think we’re unworthy. But the joy of forgiveness should compel us to share the good news with friends, family, co-workers, and neighbors.

8. Resolve to obey.

We can do all the steps above, but if we’re planning to sin in the same way again, then grace isn’t truly taking root. What God desires is the mark of true repentance—a heart that is “broken” by sin and truly “contrite.”

As Puritan pastor Thomas Watson wrote, “‘Til sin be bitter, Christ will not be sweet.” If we come to God with a heart set on obedience, he “will not despise” it because of Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf (v. 17).

Unlike my childhood bedtime apologies, practicing this kind of repentance has led to deep joy as I learn to hate my sin and love my Savior more. It has also led me to open up with others, not seeking to hide my sin, but enlisting others in praying for me and building a community of women who fight our sin together. Like David, it’s my joy to tell others of God’s grace and forgiveness, depending on Christ each step of the way.

Editors’ note: 

This article is adapted from Catherine Parks’s new book, Real: The Surprising Secret to Deeper Relationships (The Good Book Company, 2018).

Article posted at: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/steps-repentance-psalm-51/

God Delights to Forgive

Article by Scott Hubbard

All Christians believe that God forgives sins. But how many of us feel, deep down in our bones, that God delights to forgive?

When we consider God’s forgiveness, few of us imagine a bridegroom adorning his bride with jewels and rejoicing over her newfound beauty (Isaiah 62:5), a shepherd singing as he carries his lost sheep home (Luke 15:3–7), or a father running to us, robing us, and dancing till daybreak (Luke 15:20–24).

Images like these stretch the imaginations of sinners like us. They sit on the surface of our souls, while deep down, where roots sink into soil, we wonder if God is really that happy forgiving us. Our suspicions easily replace the Bridegroom’s pleasure with pursed lips, the Shepherd’s song with a lecture, and the Father’s robe with the elder brother’s hand-me-downs.

If we are going to feel and not just confess that God delights to forgive those who come to him through Jesus, we will need to grasp why he forgives.

1. Forgiveness reveals God’s heart.

For many of us, the god of our unredeemed imagination has a small and shriveled heart. If we asked this god to show us his glory, he might pass by and say, “The Lord, the Lord, a God stingy and tightfisted, quick to anger, and abounding in steadfast vengeance.” If this god forgives at all, he does so as a sovereign Scrooge, ever dangling our debts over our heads.

But this is not the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, whose heart is broad as the heavens, deep as the seas, kind as the morning sun. If we travel into the inner chambers of God’s heart, we will find the home of everything pleasant: mercy, grace, and enough forgiveness to cover the world twice over. He is “good and forgiving, abounding in steadfast love to all who call upon him” (Psalm 86:5).

To be sure, God also feels righteous wrath toward those who refuse to repent. But love and wrath, forgiveness and vengeance, do not own equal acreage in God’s heart. When God proclaims his name, he leads with mercy and grace, not anger (Exodus 34:6). When he sends calamity on his stiff-necked people, he calls his judgment “strange” and “alien” (Isaiah 28:21). Even when he lands a fatal blow, he reminds us that “he does not afflict from his heart” (Lamentations 3:33). In the end, the wrath of God will stand as the black backdrop accenting the diamonds of his forgiving love (Romans 9:22–23).

The God we meet in Scripture does not hoard his forgiveness like a miser with his money. The storehouses of his heart are always open and stocked with all the grace a sinner will ever need. With God, there is forgiveness (Psalm 130:4) — and not out of reluctance or necessity, but out of the overflow of his broad heart.

2. Forgiveness fulfills God’s mission.

From the moment Adam and Eve left Eden, God has not been content to leave his people in exile, corrupt and condemned. He promised, again and again, that a day would come when the Son of God would leave his Father’s side, travel to rebel lands, and trade the praise of angels for the scorn of men.

And why? For forgiveness. Jesus “will save his people from their sins,” the angel tells Joseph (Matthew 1:21), and then Zechariah tells us how: “in the forgiveness of their sins” (Luke 1:77). When Jesus began his public ministry, he set his face toward sinners (Mark 2:17), forgiving even the worst (Luke 7:47–48). He taught us to pray for forgiveness (Matthew 6:12), and, in his moment of greatest agony, he himself prayed for us: “Father, forgive them” (Luke 23:34).

As the hour of his death approached, Jesus told his disciples the meaning of his broken body and spilled blood: “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:28). He took on a back to bear our griefs, shoulders to carry our sorrows, hands to be pierced for our transgressions, and a body to be bruised for our iniquities (Isaiah 53:4–5). Then he hung there on the cross, pouring out the kindness of his forgiving heart from the wounds that we created.

Through forgiveness, Jesus fulfills God’s ancient mission. He plunders the domain of darkness while Satan watches, bound (Matthew 12:29), and fills his Father’s house with many sons and daughters (John 14:2; Hebrews 2:10).

You do not need to persuade this Savior to forgive you. Forgiveness is why he came.

3. Forgiveness glorifies God’s Son.

On this side of Calvary, all forgiveness comes through the crucified Christ, who fulfilled every letter of God’s law, paid every cent of our debt, and swallowed up every drop of God’s wrath. Every forgiven sinner stands safe behind the scars of Jesus Christ. And therefore, forgiveness glorifies the name of Christ — it is “for his name’s sake” (1 John 2:12).

God’s forgiveness does not mainly emphasize our worth but Jesus’s. When God forgives, he writes the merits of Jesus on a banner across the sky. He leads us behind the Lamb of God in triumphal procession. He taps into the deepest passion of his heart, and fulfills the prayer of the psalmist: “Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory, for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness!” (Psalm 115:1).

Because forgiveness glorifies Christ’s name, he does not forgive half-heartedly. He forgives gladly, zealously — with all of his heart and soul. John Piper writes, “Whenever I am most thirsty and desperate for help, I can encourage my soul not only with the truth that there is a merciful impulse in the heart of God, but also with the truth that the source and power of that impulse is the zeal of God to act for the glory of his own name” (The Pleasures of God, 233–34).

What makes God glad to forgive you? Not your merits, not your vows, and not your future potential, but rather the worth of the Lamb who was slain.

Fields of Forgiveness

Of course, God does not delight to forgive everybody. Millions in our day echo the last words of Heinrich Heine — “Of course God will forgive me; that’s his job” — while feeling no sorrow for sin, no hunger for holiness, no love for Christ. God does not delight to forgive people who take forgiveness for granted.

But when we ask for forgiveness beneath the bright banner of Jesus, from a heart that hates sin, and with a longing to be holy as God is holy, we place ourselves on the path of God’s delight. We become a stage for God to showcase the glories of his heart. We join God in his passion to bring many sons to glory. We display to saints and sinners, angels and demons, that Jesus Christ is a strong Savior.

When you come before God today in the moments after committing some sin, you do not need to stumble through the forests of guilt and self-reproach. Confess your sin, turn to Jesus, and run in the fields of his forgiveness.

Scott Hubbard is a graduate of Bethlehem College & Seminary and an editor for desiringGod.org. He lives in Minneapolis.

Posted at: https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/his-heart-is-broad-as-heaven

Your Sin Will Find You Out (But So Will His Righteousness)

Article by Jared C. Wilson

… be sure your sin will find you out.
– Numbers 32:23

In the news a couple of years ago I read a report from Kennebunkport, Maine that a fitness trainer had turned her business into an underground prostitution ring. I am not clear on whether there were multiple prostitutes available or just her, but the primary focus was on the “johns,” a variety of local men, some of them quite prominent figures, whose names were listed in the newspapers. The ensuing debate is over whether such a practice is appropriate. Won’t it ruin these men’s lives and devastate their families? The public shaming is part of the attempt to crack down on prostitution in the area.

I confess I’m not sure how I feel about the publishing of the names. I feel similar in my reaction to those who hang out in the parking lots of adult bookstores and strip clubs, snapping photos of the patrons as they come and go, to print their pics in the local paper, “outing” them. It’s an effort to “take back” neighborhoods, which I certainly sympathize with. In the latter example, nothing illegal (theoretically) is taking place, while of course in the former case, it is. And I guess I can also see the logic in publicizing the names of those soliciting prostitution as a way of creating parity with other crimes, whose suspects are regularly named in the media.

And I suppose this is essentially a modern fulfillment of the biblical principle: “your sins will find you out.”

Your sins will find you out. You won’t get away with it. There will be justice. In this life or the next. Or both.

I think many of us who have tasted of the Lord’s holiness have a degree, some more than others, of the shame of sin. We envision the day when we will stand before the Lord to give an account of everything we’ve done. I recall preachers past suggesting a giant movie screen will play before God and everybody of all our sins, the ones external and internal, the ones we remember and the ones we don’t. Every single drop of bitterness, unkind word, every single second of lust, every hateful thought, every self-indulgent theft of the glory belonging only to God in stunning color and panoramic vision. Like a list of names in the newspaper or only infinitely worse. “This man! This man is a pervert” the broadcast will reveal.

But then there is the promise of my holy God himself—that his Son is not ashamed to call me his brother (Hebrews 2:11). He oughta be! But he’s not. He has satisfied justice by taking the endless list of my sins upon himself, bearing my shame on a public cross beneath a paper vindictively, sarcastically publishing his name. I stake everything on that promise and the promises from which it is derived. There is the promise that he will present me blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy (Jude 24). Oh, he will read a list, all right. He calls it the Lamb’s Book of Life. And because this ferociously holy and glory-jealous God has foreknown me, elected me, justified me, sanctified me, is sanctifying me, and will glorify me, my name will be found in it.

“This man! This man is a good and faithful servant” the broadcast will reveal. For I have been covered in the righteousness of my precious Redeemer. He has cast my sins in to the depths of the sea to remember them no more. (Let the redeemed of the Lord say so!)

Christian, be sure his righteousness will find you out.

About the Author: Jared C. Wilson is the Director of Content Strategy for Midwestern Seminary, managing editor of For The Church, Director of the Pastoral Training Center at Liberty Baptist Church, and author of numerous books, including Gospel Wakefulness, The Pastor’s Justification, The Prodigal Church, The Imperfect Disciple, and Supernatural Power for Everyday People. A frequent preacher and speaker at churches and conferences, you can visit him online at jaredcwilson.com 

Posted at: https://ftc.co/resource-library/blog-entries/your-sin-will-find-you-out-but-so-will-his-righteousness

The Lord's Prayer is a Gospel Prayer

Article by Al Mohler

The Gospel Foundation of the Lord’s Prayer 

We are a nation of debtors. Millions of young people are on the verge of bankruptcy with unpayable credit card debt that compounds yet more interest every month. The problem of school debt, often running into the hundreds of thousands of dollars, has now become a national crisis. Even the federal government is in debt–debt that has soared into untold trillions of dollars.

Yet while many Americans view debt as an annoyance, in the ancient world debt was punishable by prison sentence. In the Roman Empire, prisons were not generally filled with criminals; they were populated with debtors. Most convicted criminals were executed or were forced to serve some other form of punishment for their crimes, but those who could not make good on their payments were incarcerated until they could pay what they owed. This system was meant to put pressure on the families of the incarcerated debtor to find the necessary money to pay their debts to free their loved one from prison.

In the Roman Empire, then, debt typically meant severe pain and tragedy for an individual and a family. In our day we experience frustration and anxiety with debt, but in the days of Jesus, debt was a matter of life and death. This is the context in which Jesus teaches us to pray “forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” Jesus’ use of the word debts is meant to evoke in our mind both a serious offense and a corresponding serious punishment. To be forgiven a debt was no mere trifle, but an act of extravagant mercy.

If the petition “give us this day our daily bread” emphasizes our most urgent physical needs, the petition “forgive us our debts” emphasizes our most urgent spiritual need. Saying we owe a debt to God means that we have failed to pay up. Thus, as sinners, we stand before God condemned, rightly deserving his just wrath. Only God’s forgiveness can clear our guilt and establish a meaningful relationship between God and us.

This petition reminds us that the Lord’s Prayer is not a casual prayer for the generically religious. This prayer is a gospel prayer. We can only say these words and ask these things of God when we stand on the finished, atoning work of Jesus Christ. Indeed, this petition demonstrates that the theological bedrock of the Lord’s Prayer is nothing less than the gospel. We can only rightly pray the Lord’s Prayer when we recognize that we are deeply sinful and only God’s grace in Christ can remedy our souls.

Getting the Gospel Right 

The logic of this particular petition in the Lord’s Prayer has been misconstrued so often that we would do well to remind ourselves of what Scripture teaches about the gospel. Nothing is more central to the message of Scripture than the gospel. If we err on this point, we err on all others. Many interpreters believe that Jesus is saying that God only forgives us when we earn his forgiveness through forgiving others. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, this petition does not say “forgive us our debts because we forgive our debtors,” but “forgive us our debts aswe have forgiven our debtors.” The difference between those two phrases, as we shall see, is the difference between the gospel of Jesus Christ and no gospel at all.

The sum and substance of the gospel is that a holy and righteous God who must claim a full penalty for our sin both demands that penalty and provides it. His self-substitution is Jesus Christ the Son, whose perfect obedience and perfectly accomplished atonement on the cross purchased all that is necessary for our salvation. Jesus Christ met the full demands of the righteousness and justice of God against our sin.

Paul summarized the work of Christ in 2 Corinthians 5:21: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” Christ is our substitute and his life is sacrificed for our sin so that God’s wrath against us is removed.

How then do we benefit from the sacrifice of Christ for us? Paul answered that we do not earn the righteousness of God in Christ; instead it is given to us freely when we believe the gospel: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 3:23-24). Indeed, nothing in us or achieved by us is the grounds of our acceptance with God. Instead, as Paul made clear, “To the one who does not work but believes in him who justified the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness” (Rom. 4:5)…

The apostle was very clear. We are saved by faith alone in the work of Christ. All this comes from the grace of God. But we are not freed just from the penalty of sin; we are also freed from the power of sin. While our salvation is not a “result of works,” Paul noted that it does result in works, ones that God himself prepared for us to do. The portrait of the gospel is indeed astounding. We are saved by grace along through faith alone in Christ alone, which then results in our being transformed into the image of Christ (2 Cor. 3:18). Indeed the whole of our salvation proclaims the glory of God…

If you have ever been tempted to think that the gospel is nowhere present in the Lord’s Prayer, think again! This petition only makes sense in the context of Christ’s provision for us. By agreeing with God that we are sinners and repenting of that sin by asking for forgiveness, God clears our debts on account of Christ’s work for us.

If this does not shock us, then we have grown fare too familiar with the gospel and the glory of God’s grace. The extravagant mercy of God shown in this petition should be on our lips and in our hearts daily. When we recognize we are debtors, then we see ourselves as we truly are, beggars at the throne of grace. Martin Luther, the great Reformer of the sixteenth century, certainly understood and reveled in this truth. When Luther came to die, his last moments were characterized by delirium and moving in and out of consciousness. Yet in one last moment of clarity Luther said (mixing German with Latin), “Wir sind bettler. Hoc est verum“–We are beggars, this is true.

To read more, purchase your copy of The Prayer that Turns the World Upside Down at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or ChristianBook.com.

Posted at: https://albertmohler.com/2018/11/29/forgive-us-debts-lords-prayer-gospel-prayer/

The Joy of Overlooking an Offense

Article by Scotty Smith Pastor, Franklin, Tennessee

My wife and I just returned from an awesome eight-night holiday in one of our favorite spots in the world — the little village of Iseltwald, nestled on the Lake of Brienz, ten kilometers from Interlaken, Switzerland. No place makes me happier and hungrier for the life we’ll enjoy in the new heaven and new earth.

But as wonderful as it was to celebrate my wife’s “39th birthday” in Switzerland (we’ve been married 46 years), there were moments when the brokenness of my attitude contradicted the beauty of the Alps.

When Life Gets Very Irritating

My capacity for aggravation and irritability and resentment followed me onto our flight to Zurich and then into different scenarios in the land of yodeling and chocolate. What does a follower of Jesus do when:

• Fellow travelers put their oversized carry-on luggage in the overhead bin directly over your assigned seat?

• Flight attendants seem to enjoy attending to the needs of those all around you, but treat you as invisible passengers?

• Free Wi-Fi on your flight faithfully delivers “feedback” emails including “constructive criticism” about your last sermon and preaching attire, your “redneck” sounding accent, and your lack of late-night accessibility?

• Robust young men on a packed bus don’t offer your back-pained wife a seat?

• By happenstance, you run into an old friend in the high-elevation village of Mürren, who mentions the name of another college friend — a friend who has caused you the yet-to-be-healed pain of betrayal?

• A hotel reservation you made months ago, for your last night in Switzerland, suddenly disappears, though you have four confirmation letters, and you have to scramble to rebook in a region of sold-out hotels?

Indeed, what should a follower of Jesus do in response to everything from normal life-in-a-fallen-world brokenness, to encounters with irritating people and provoking circumstances, to intentional insults and mean-spirited slights?

The good news is that the gospel doesn’t make us less human, but more human. As followers of Jesus, we experience the full range of disappointments and emotions common to all image bearers of God. But, by God’s grace, we can learn to steward them rather than live as slaves to them. We can learn to respond as redemptively as possible, as opposed to reacting selfishly and self-righteously. And we can actually find joy when we “overlook an offense” (Proverbs 19:11).

Five Happy Reasons to Overlook an Offense

Joy in overlooking offenses? Yes. Joy from what? Let’s look at five things the Bible says can give us joy if we’re willing to receive them.

But first, let’s be clear: overlooking an offense must not be confused with submitting to abusive people or morally and ethically unacceptable circumstances. Jesus calls us to be foot washers, not doormats.

However, there are at least five reasons that joy is found in overlooking an offense.

1. Gospel Sensibilities

When we overlook an offense, we can rejoice that we’re growing gospel sensibilities and tasting true glory. The Bible says, “Good sense makes one slow to anger, and it is his glory to overlook an offense” (Proverbs 19:11). The shorter our anger-fuse, the quicker we’ll take offense at anything and anyone. “Good sense” is gospel sense.

The more the truth of the gospel renews our minds and shapes our perspective, the quicker and easier we’ll overlook stuff. We’ll care more about honoring Jesus by our reactions to irritating people and aggravating circumstances and give up on the illusion of having a hassle-free, painless life. There is tremendous joy in caring more about God’s glory than our own reputation, convenience, and rights. God will always be most glorified in us when we are most satisfied, joyful, at peace, and free in him.

2. Owning Our Sin

When we overlook an offense, we can rejoice that we’re starting to acknowledge our own sin. We begin to believe that the log in our eye is a bigger issue than the speck in anyone else’s eye (Matthew 5:38–42). The freest, most joyful Christians I know are the quickest repenters. It’s not that they have less to repent of; they’re just faster at owning their sin, humbling themselves, and resting in Jesus.

As the gospel moves us from Satan’s condemnation into the Spirit’s conviction, we become more aware that we need the grace of God as much as anyone who sins against us, and there’s tremendous joy associated with that kind of humility. We take less offense and extend more grace; we are more patient and less petty; we are getting better at waiting than whining. We’re more realistic about life among ordinary sinners who, like us, love poorly — and wiser about what to take seriously, and what to completely ignore.

3. God’s Spirit at Work

When we overlook an offense, we can rejoice that God’s grace and Spirit are becoming more operative, transforming powers in our lives. As Christians, we are called to “grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 3:18). Growth in grace results in our getting to know Jesus better, who desires that we will have the fullness of his joy in us (John 15:11).

And as we surrender to the work of the Spirit in our lives, he grows a vibrant crop of “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, [and] self-control” — the very anti-fruit of an easily offended spirit (Galatians 5:22–23). The Holy Spirit also leads us into a greater experience of our sonship (Romans 8:15–17), which gives us even greater joy in seeing our Father at work in all things for our good — even in the most off-putting, irritating, and offensive scenarios (Romans 8:28). God never promised to do all things easy but all things well.

4. Freedom from Approval Seeking

When we overlook an offense, we can rejoice that we’re gaining freedom from living as approval seekers. Christians are a people whose joy need not be connected to what others think and say about us, or how they relate and react to us. As Proverbs 29:25 says, “The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe.”

To fear people isn’t so much to be afraid of them, but to esteem their approval too much. We look either to God or to people as the fountain and fuel of our joy. People always make poor saviors. We can’t freely or joyfully love anyone whom we’ve given the power to either shame us or exalt us.

5. Forgiving as the Forgiven

When we overlook an offense, we can rejoice that we’re getting better at forgiving others as we’ve been forgiven in Christ. There is no greater non sequitur in the entire universe, or the history of mankind, than for those of us who have been forgiven all our sins — every sinful thought, word, and deed — to withhold forgiveness from others (Matthew 18:21–35).

It was our Father’s kindness that led (and still leads) us to repentance (Romans 2:4). So where do we think our rigid, easily offended, keeping-record-of-wrongs attitudes will lead people? As Paul wrote, we are to “be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32). Our joy in forgiving others is directly connected to the unspeakable, glorious joy of God’s forgiveness of us and his great delight in us.

Scotty Smith (@ScottyWardSmith) is the founding pastor of Christ Community Church in Franklin, Tennessee.

posted at: https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-joy-of-overlooking-an-offense?fbclid=IwAR0oYxyt8JPzAxL94lZDTjFAGVqB-yGmpJDW1cbkjah4YgGNndjACq898Qo

The Danger of Forgiving Yourself

Article by Rick Thomas

Forgiving yourself is an odd teaching that has crept into the Christian’s understanding of sanctification. It’s the idea of self-forgiveness. “You just need to forgive yourself” is a standard way this secular doctrine is put forth within the Christian community.

Whose Blood is Sufficient?

Typically a person who believes he needs to forgive himself has sinned in some way–hence the need for forgiveness. All sin requires forgiveness to be free from it (Romans 10:13; 1 John 1:7-10). The need for forgiveness is a straight-forward Christian doctrine: I sin; I need forgiveness.

The problem arises when the person seeking forgiveness is not seeking forgiveness from God, or from God alone. He is looking for something more–something in addition to God’s forgiveness; he wants to be self-forgiving. Though he may know God will forgive him of his sins, he also believes self-forgiveness is required.

“Yes, God has forgiven me, but I can’t forgive myself for what I did” is a typical response.

Though this should be a self-evident heresy that distorts the gospel by adding to the forgiveness we receive from God alone, through Christ alone, based on the Bible alone, it is not with many Christians. Unknowingly, these self-forgiving people are adding to the gospel (Galatians 1:8-9). It is like placing the blood of the lamb above the doorpost along with your blood too–a dangerous teaching (Exodus 12:7).

• Christ Forgiving + Self-Forgiving = Heresy
• Christ Forgiving + My Acceptance of His Forgiveness = Gospel

The reason the perfect Lamb of God came to earth was to save us from our sins (John 1:29). Christ’s redemption is a major plank in the gospel platform. Sin separates people from Christ, and if they are going to be redeemed, God in the flesh must do it (Ephesians 2:1-9).

Jesus did come and became a man, lived perfectly, died on the cross, and rose from the grave to not only conquer our sin but to provide a means to free sinner-man from it.

In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace. – Ephesians 1:7

If sinner-man could forgive himself, he would not need a perfect sacrifice. If an imperfect sacrifice would do, who needs Christ? How convenient: I can sin, forgive myself of my sin, and be free from my sin. I can live in a hermetically sealed self-made redemptive world.

The Bible teaches that only Christ can forgive us of our sins because we cannot forgive ourselves from the sins we commit against an infinite, holy, almighty, and sovereign Lord. There is no biblical basis for this.

Lingering Feelings of Conviction

The person who is struggling with self-forgiveness has committed some sin. They have transgressed God’s moral law and are feeling bad about what they did.

This feeling is called conviction from the Spirit of God, which is a good thing. Whenever we sin, there should be an appropriate and accompanying conviction. To feel bad about wrongs committed is a kindness from the Lord.

Imagine being able to sin, but not able to know, discern, or sense it. It would be like slicing your hand open and not feeling the pain. Pain in such an instance is a mercy from the Lord. Spiritual conviction is similar to physical discomfort. It gives us the opportunity to respond to God, receive His forgiveness, and move on in the freedom that the power of the gospel offers (Galatians 5:1).

If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. – 1 John 1:8-9

In some cases with some Christians, they have a difficult time receiving and resting in God’s full forgiveness. They may even ask God to forgive them multiple times, but the lingering residual feeling of conviction remains. This feeling is a false sense of guilt that is not resting in the transformative power of the gospel.

Their lack of gospel trust disables them from fully appropriating the undeserved favor He provides. These unbelieving Christians (Mark 9:24) continue to struggle with ongoing issues like guilt, remorse, shame, and embarrassment.

Their self-imposed guilt may even drive them to isolate from others by hiding the real truth about what is going on. Like their predecessor Adam, they cover themselves with fig leaves.

Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. – Genesis 3:7

Hiding unresolved guilt issues complicates the original sin with other sins they pursue to find relief from the guilt. Rather than running to God, they entangle themselves in a godless orbit of temptations that pushes them into a spiral of self-perpetuating dysfunction.

The Self-Esteem Gospel

The full power of the gospel becomes marginalized in their lives because their view of themselves, God, and His gospel is limited and smallish. This is what connects them to the self-esteem movement, a person who spends an inordinate amount of time thinking about themselves rather than God (Philippians 2:3-5).

• Self-esteem teaches us to think highly of ourselves. Christianity teaches us to think highly of others.
• Self-esteem teaches us to be all you can be. Christianity teaches us to make others great.
• Self-esteem teaches us to be independent. Christianity teaches us to be interdependent.
• Self-esteem teaches us to be competitive. Christianity teaches us to be other-centered.
• Self-esteem teaches us not to be self-critical. Christianity teaches us to own our depravity.

The self-esteem movement is counter-productive to the Christian way of thinking. It leads to more and more introspection and individualism, which has an incarcerating effect on the mind.

Can anyone spend more time thinking about themselves, and feel better about themselves because of their introspective reflections? The gospel frees us from ourselves while motivating us to spend more time focusing on God and others.

The self-forgiver is intuitively self-focused. All he can think about is what he did and how bad he feels about what he did and how God would never forgive such an awful person. Self-esteem makes man and his problems big and God and His power small.

Looking Down on Yourself

The Bible category for self-esteem is self-righteousness.

Let me illustrate: Imagine a person being two people. Let’s say the person is me. In this illustration, I am person A, and I am person B. I am representing both people. Now, let’s say, person A commits adultery and person B, which is also me, is in disbelief over what person A did. In other words, I am shocked at what I did.

Dear God, I can’t believe I did that.

In addition to being shocked, I am embarrassed, angry, frustrated, confused, and ashamed of what I did. My self-esteem gospel tells me to think highly of myself (person B), but my reality tells me that I have a problem (person A). I’m in a tailspin. Why?

Self-esteem says, “I am somebody. I am great. I can do all things.”

Bible says, “I am a sinner, totally depraved, and capable of many other things that are worse than this.”

Only a person with a high view of himself would be shocked at what he did: “It is so bad that I can’t get over it.” No Christian should be surprised or shocked when he sins. Though you are a saint, you also choose to sin on occasion.

We are fallen people, living in a fallen world, and at times we are tempted to yield to the temptation to sin–a sad fact of life. If you regularly imbibe on the counter-productive self-esteem model, you will always be shrinking into a person who finds it hard to accept your sinfulness.

While you continually stroke yourself upward through the maintenance of your high thoughts about yourself, you will also be confronted by the sin you commit. Your mind will be like a roller coaster of bad thoughts (James 1:5-8).

The self-esteem model teaches a person to ignore weaknesses and wrongs. Thus, when the inevitability of our Adamic tendencies come to roost, you will be surprised, shocked, disbelieving, and discouraged.

The Christian’s counter to this worldview is to regularly soak in the Scripture’s view that we are saints who sin. This view will prepare you to deal with the reality of who you are before God and others.

Though you will experience guilt and conviction after you sin, your actions will not throw you into a ditch by your actions. You will be able to fast track to the only one who can fully and freely forgive you.

The Bible does not have a high view of humans. In fact, the Bible has an extremely low view of who we are and what we are capable of doing. Whenever the Bible talks about our propensities outside of the grace of God, its view of man is low–even pronouncing eternal torment on those who reject God. (See Romans 3:10-12; Revelation 20:15)

Needing More Than Christ

Self-esteem (biblically defined as self-righteousness) can only lead to one conclusion: You have to go outside the biblical boundaries for a solution. Thus, the self-esteemer can never be free.

He will live with the ongoing residual effect of guilt and shame because of his unwillingness to embrace a sober assessment of who he  is–a born again sinner. The battles of guilt and shame that reject the gospel’s cure will always motivate other measures like self-forgiveness.

I asked Christ to forgive me, and I believe He did, but I still struggle with what I did, so I just need to forgive myself.

If you have a hard time embracing your sins or accepting the poor view of yourself that your sins affirm, you will have a hard time accepting a gospel cleanse. Christ came for sinners, not people who can’t believe they did such a thing or won’t own the truth about their sinful actions (Luke 5:32).

The Price of Forgiveness

All sin is against God, and only God can forgive sin. Let me illustrate by giving you a truth and an analogy.

Truth: The person sinned against (the Lord) is the one who determines the price to be paid to cover the offense.

Analogy: If you cause a car accident, you are not the one who determines what you are going to pay to make amends for your mistake. The insurance company assesses the damages and lets you know what the cost will be.

This analogy is proximate to how forgiveness works with God. He is always the one who determines what it will take to cover the offense–not you, the offender.

The Lord made that decision a long time ago when He sent His one and only Son to die on the cross for our sins (John 1:29, 3:7, 3:16). You or I do not tell God that we need a greater sacrifice for the sins we commit.

Imagine a friend paying for your meal at a restaurant. Though you appreciate it, you decide to also pay for the meal–in addition to his payment. There is no need for you to pay for something that has already been paid for, and there is no need for you to forgive yourself after God has forgiven you. The real question is, “Can you rest in His forgiveness?”

Call to Action

The gospel came to take care of your sin problems because you could not. Your job should be simple: apply the gospel to your life. You must ask, receive, and apply God’s forgiveness to your life. Then rest in His gospel goodness.

If you are like me, a person who can become overly shocked by personal sin, maybe you need to repent of self-righteousness. Sometimes I forget how Jesus is enough for all my sin. How about you?

1. Are you able to rest in God’s forgiveness?
2. Why do you feel the need to forgive yourself when infinite God gave you an infinite gift to pay for your infinite offense against Him? What can you add to infinity?
3. What is going on in your thinking that hinders you from trusting and resting in the Lord?
4. Will you talk to someone about those things?

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