A Life of Repentance

Jr. (original source here)

It takes me some time to kind of wind down and come off the excitement and adrenaline push of a Ligonier Conference. We just a few days ago had our annual Reformation Bible College conference, and I’m still thinking about it and thinking about the blessings that I had, about the things that I got to talk about, and that’s leading me to ask you to listen to this too. If you were there, I’m glad you were there and that you’re listening to the podcast, if you weren’t there, I’m hoping next time you will be.

Our theme, our approach for this year’s conference was a little bit odd. We’re looking at the dawn of the Reformation, and we’re doing so because we’re fast approaching the 500th anniversary of the occasion of Luther nailing his 95 theses on the church door in Wittenberg. But that doesn’t happen till next year, so it’s a little bit odd to be stopping to celebrate the 499th anniversary of the start of the Reformation. So our approach was to say “What was going on in the leadup?” My last talk, I looked specifically at what was going on in the life of Luther, and it was an opportunity to speak on a theme that was near and dear to my heart. I have, I confess, if you ever come to a Ligonier conference, if you want to know what’s going through my mind while I’m up there talking it’s not “All those people are looking at me!” I’m actually quite comfortable. I don’t like when one person looks at me, but I’m quite comfortable with a big crowd. What I’m thinking about is what I’m trying to do. What I’m trying to do is to bless and help the audience with respect to their sanctification.

To put it another way, I’m trying to be prophetic into the lives of that particular audience. I get a little bit frustrated and annoyed at our propensity to sort of let loose our inner prophet when it’s safe. That we speak badly about our brothers and sisters that aren’t within our hearing. And what that does is it has a tendency to fill the ears of those who are hearing with pride. And so I want to speak to our propensity, and one of the things that I spoke to is this idea that we have, because we’re Reformed people, we’re theologically minded, we have this vision of Luther and the start of the Reformation, that this is how it happened: Luther was wrestling over some particular text or some particular Greek word, and he’s in his study or in a pub somewhere, and he has this “Eureka!” moment and then decides to go publish on it. And I suggested that that badly misunderstands what happened, and who Luther was. Luther was a genius, he was a brilliant mind, but more importantly, he was troubled in heart.

I argued that we can see what sparked the Reformation by looking at the first of the 95 theses. And the first of the 95 theses did not say “When Rome said this about this obscure text in Jeremiah, they mistranslated this Hebrew word” what he said was “When our Lord commanded that we should repent, he willed that all of our lives would be lives of repentance.” You see, what troubled Luther was not mere intellectual error, what troubled Luther was the sin in his own life. And that’s what needs to be our concern, and our reason for rejoicing in and celebrating the Reformation. The Reformation is the recovery of how we have peace with God. But our problem is we don’t even know that we don’t have peace with God. We don’t feel the weight of our sin. But Luther did. When he saw his sin and when he knew the holiness of God, he knew he had to hope that there would be some way that he could escape the wrath of God.

My talk took a turn to what may be my favorite text in all of Scripture, that text where Jesus gives the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, where the Pharisee stands and says “I thank you Lord that I am not like other men”, and the tax collector says, unable to look up, beating his breast, “Lord be merciful to me a sinner.” You see, our problem is, we’re smart enough to know that we’re not supposed to be the Pharisee. But we’re pharisaical enough to think that because we’re smart enough to know that, that we’re not like other men. And we thank you Lord, that we’re not like other men, we know that the Pharisee is the bad guy of the story. Instead of actually recognizing that what we’re called to is the beating of the breast, and that crying out for mercy from God in Christ.

Friends, I want us to be students of theology, I want us to wrestle over difficult things, I don’t have a quarrel with enjoying these things while we’re smoking our pipes and stroking our beards. But we never, never can lose sight of the fact that all these things should be done while we’re beating our breasts, while we’re crying out for the mercy of God in Christ, that is what was recovered. The truth of the matter is that we have peace with God because of what Jesus did for us, in fact the whole issue of the Reformation was the affirmation of our dependence upon His grace alone. Not our dependence upon recognizing our dependence upon His grace alone, not our dependence on the perfect formulation. I suggested in my talk that if you were to query the tax collector upon the difference between imputation and infusion, he would have no idea, he would think you were speaking in tongues. But if you asked him “Do you cooperate with God? Do you contribute? Do you walk alongside God in your justification? Do you bring anything to the table?” he would say “Oh yes I do bring something to the table. I bring the need. I bring the problem. I bring death and destruction and rebellion. I’ve got nothing to offer. And that, at the end of the day, is the heart and soul of the Reformed faith, not just the mind, but the heart and the soul of the Reformed faith. Repentance is the foundation and the substance of Reformation.

Does God Ever Regret?

Article: Kevin DeYoung – Does God Have Regret? (original source but they asked anyway. So God gave them what they wanted—an impressive human king, just like the other nations had. His name was Saul, and he didn’t last long. He disobeyed the divine command, infuriating the prophet-judge Samuel and upsetting the Lord God.

The word of the Lord came to Samuel: “I regret that I have made Saul king, for he has turned back from following me and has not performed my commandments.” (1 Samuel 15:10-11)

In 1 Samuel 15:35, we see a similar statement:

And Samuel did not see Saul again until the day of his death, but Samuel grieved over Saul. And the Lord regretted that he had made Saul king over Israel.

Strong words. And surprising too. What does it mean for God to say “I regret”? Can God change his mind? Can we thwart God’s plans? Is God ignorant about the future? Is God just like us in that he makes honest mistakes and sometimes look back at his decisions and says, “Golly, I wish I could do that one over again”? It seems like our God makes mistakes and is forced to change course.

And yet, we know this is not the right way to understand God’s regret because of what we read a few verses earlier in 1 Samuel 15:

And Samuel said to him, “The Lord has torn the kingdom of Israel from you this day and has given it to a neighbor of yours, who is better than you. And also the Glory of Israel will not lie or have regret, for he is not a man, that he should have regret.” (28-29)

We must keep in mind one of the great principles of biblical interpretation: the author was not completely stupid. We have no reason (other than our own biases) to think verse 29 was inserted by a later scribe and no reason to think verse 29 cannot cohere with verses 11 and 35. Clearly, if we are going to be wise, consistent students of Scripture we have to allow that in some sense God can regret, while in another sense God would not be God if he did regret.

The author of 1 Samuel–not to the mention the Author behind 1 Samuel–is trying to teach us something about God. On the one hand, our God is not static, monotonous, and lifeless. As a personal, relational Being, God’s activity in the world is subject to change and allows for all the dynamism we have in our personal relationships. There was always bound to be conflict in covenantal history between God and human beings, but this does not mean there is conflict within God’s inner being (see Horton, The Christian Faith, 240-241). As God’s ways appear to us, there will be change and variation, but as God is in his character and essence there can be no variation of shadow due to change (James 1:17; cf. Mal.3:6; Heb. 13:8; 2 Tim. 2:13).

When God reflects on the disobedience of Saul, he uses a word that makes sense to us: the word “regret.” But this doesn’t mean God was ignorant about Saul’s sin or caught off guard by his rebellion. As John Piper points out, God is quite capable of lamenting a state of affairs he himself foreknew and brought about. In other words, God’s regret is not analogous in every way to our regret. This seems to be the point verse 29 is explicitly making. God can look back at Saul and say “I’m grieved that he sinned; it’s time to find another king” while still maintaining, “I never change my mind.”

It is the nature of our covenantal relationship with God to know God as one who responds and reacts, which ought to appear to us all the more amazing because it is the nature of our covenant keeping God never to lie, repent, or change his mind (Num. 23:19).

Michael Kruger Responds to Andy Stanley

“The Bible Told Me So” (preached Aug 28, 2016). Stanley, son of well-known Atlanta pastor, Charles Stanley, is the senior pastor of Northpoint Community Church in Alpharetta, GA.

Stanley’s concern in this sermon is for those who have experienced what he calls “deconversions”—people who went to church as a child but have drifted away from the faith as they have reached adulthood. They drifted away because they went to a church that refused to answer their difficult questions and insisted that they were “just supposed to have faith.”

There is little doubt that Stanley has put his finger on a critical issue for the church today, and he should be commended for it. We need to find a compelling way to address the questions and doubts people have about their faith without ducking the hard questions.

But while Stanley has correctly diagnosed the disease, serious questions remain about whether he has offered an adequate cure. Indeed, in many ways, his suggested cure becomes problematic enough that one begins to wonder whether it just might be more troubling than the disease itself.

So what is the cure that Stanley has offered? In brief, Christians need to stop basing their faith on the Bible.

The cause of these deconversions, Stanley argues, is that Christians, from an early age, are taught the children’s lyric, “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” Why is this phrase a problem? Stanley answers: “because the implication is the Bible is the reason we believe.”

Why would it be a problem if the Bible is the reason we believe? Stanley tells us: “If the Bible is the foundation of our faith, here is the problem, it is all or nothing. . . Christianity becomes a fragile house of cards that comes tumbling down when we discover that perhaps the walls of Jericho didn’t.”

In other words, the cure (or at least part of it) for these deconversions is to take the Bible out of the equation. If we do that, then we don’t have to worry about defending it or upholding it. Problem solved.

Or is it?

While one sympathizes with Stanley’s desire to remove obstacles to belief in Jesus, his solution does not solve the problem. In fact, it creates even bigger ones. It becomes (as we shall see below) the equivalent of sawing off the branch you’re sitting on.

Just a Method to Reach Unbelievers?

Now, before we go further, it should be noted that Stanley’s desire to remove the Bible as the basis for our belief in Jesus is driven by his concern to reach unbelievers (or ex-believers). Since unbelievers don’t accept the authority of the Bible, he thinks he will be more effective if the Bible is taken out of the mix. Continue reading