When Your Aim Is Wrong

The aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart. 1 Timothy 1:5

Is it just me, or have we all been duped?

Eight years ago, I stumbled onto something that made me question my entire so-called “Protestant heritage”. I am not quite ready to venture into that story here (I have been re-reading and re-highlighting my Bible since then, like an infant who has discovered a new toy, and I’m still stuck in the novelty of it all), but one thing I can share is the experience of being a Christian outside the warm fuzziness of a global identity with its own superheroes and folktales of historical conquests. These conquests, so the stories go, have kept the household of God firmly from sliding into the hellish cauldron of heresy that is the unfortunate and inevitable fate of those who dare set foot outside the community walls – walls carefully and lovingly constructed by the family fathers and ideological forebears whose insights are the lights of the city behind them.

It’s a rather desolate (albeit breathtaking) landscape out here, I must admit, and the journey is solitary at times. Most pilgrims who have walked these roads have disappeared through other doors. Doors with their own walls. Walls enclosing their own communities. Communities circulating their own folktales. Folktales with their own heroes. Heroes carrying their own lights.

But there are pleasant surprises here. Whilst the paths of this landscape are narrow, they are void of the abominable heresies warned against behind those walls. The pitfalls are plentiful, that is true, but you will steer clear of them as long as you remain on the trails.

Also, the pilgrims one encounters here are remarkably easy to communicate with, as if the exquisite nature of this place has brought them to a blissful state of rest that has banished all need for religious propaganda or its insignia. Conversations are not umpired by ecclesiastical allegiances, credal checkboxes or big-name dropping.

All of this has made me think of something: What if we have misunderstood sin?

Yes, we have heard ad nauseam that sin is to “miss the mark”. But which mark? What if we, in our neurotic efforts to hit the mark and escape the fires of hell, have been aiming at the wrong target?

What if, and this is going to sound crazy, we find ourselves one day arriving at another door – one leading to the wedding feast of the Lamb – with a smile of expectancy on our faces and a lifetime of testimonies of hitting the bullseye again and again and again, only to hear a single sentence uttered by the guardian of that door:

“You have not loved adequately.”

“Huh? What the flowers? What’s love got to do with it?”

“Everything.”

“I’m sorry. I am justified by grace through faith.”

“You have not loved adequately.”

“Wait, this is annoying. I am saved by grace. I am a Protestant!”

“A what?”

“A Protestant! I protest against a works-based gospel!”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because works cannot save you. Ephesians 2, verses 8 and 9: ‘For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast!'”

“Have you read verse 10?”

“Verse 10?”

“Yes. ‘For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.'”

“Oh.”

“If you wanted to spend your life protesting, you should have protested against a works-free gospel, not a works-based gospel. Have you not read James?”

“I am a follower of Luther, and Luther did not like James. He called it a straw letter, because it suggests that we have to do works to be saved.”

“Luther was wrong. He missed the meaning of James’ letter.”

“Which is?”

“You have not loved adequately.”

“Oh no, here we go again. Are we speaking about the same James, the one who sounds like a legalist?”

“A what?”

“A legalist.”

“What is that?”

“One who keeps the law to get saved.”

“The James I speak about did not do that. He got saved to keep the law.”

“Ah. You see! He’s a legalist. Whether he kept the law to get saved or got saved to keep the law, he was still under the law. In any case, what has keeping the law got to do with loving adequately?”

“Everything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t. James does not abolish the law. He speaks about the law in its fulfilled state. That is why he calls it the perfect law, the law of liberty, and the royal law, namely to love your neighbour as yourself. Breaking this law means your religion is worthless and your faith is no different from the faith of demons. The works James refers to are works of love.”

“Uhm, can’t we rather speak about Paul and his message of grace?”

“We can. Where would you like to start?”

“Romans, please.”

“Do you think Romans differ from James?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Yet Romans’ main point is exactly the same as James’.”

“No!”

“Yes. You have not loved adequately.”

“Where does it say that?”

“All over, but especially in Chapter 13. The entire law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbour as yourself,” which means the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. Romans’ charge that we are all lawbreakers is just another way of saying we have not loved adequately. To be freed from sin in Romans is to be freed from the inability to love. To not love is to remain in sin.”

“Let’s rather go to Corinthians.”

“Sure. That’s where we read that even if I have all faith and have not love, I am nothing. Correct?”

“Let’s skip Corinthians and go to Galatians.”

“Ah, the calling to freedom in order to serve one another through love and so fulfill the whole law as expressed through a single word: “You shall love your neighbour as yourself.”

“Uhm… Ephesians?”

“The letter that links Christ dwelling in our hearts through faith with being rooted and grounded in love?”

“Let’s forget about James and Paul and rather go to Jesus. He was all about grace and acceptance, wasn’t he?”

“The gospels? Would you like to start with Matthew, where we read that the Law and the Prophets can be summarised in the command to do unto others as you would have them do unto you, and that those who did not do this will be called lawless and told to depart from Christ even if they prophesied and drove out demons and did many mighty works in his name? They did not love adequately, you see. Or should we start with the separation of the sheep and the goats on the Day of Judgment, where we see that the sheep are distinguished from the goats by their care for the hungry, the naked, the sick and those in prison? The goats… they did not love adequately. What about Jesus saying that all the Law and the Prophets hang on the two commandments to love God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength, and your neighbour as yourself? Or perhaps you want to go to Mark, where we read that to love one’s neighbour as oneself is much more than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices? Or Luke, who spoke about a Samaritan who understood the aim of the law better than a priest and Levite combined. He loved adequately, they did not. Or John, where Jesus introduced a new commandment to his disciples, namely to love one another as he has loved them. Maybe Acts, where Jesus is quoted as having said it is more blessed to give than to receive?”

“Stop, please. I thought people get saved by grace.”

“They do, but grace that does not enter your heart and flow from it as love is grace that cannot save. You shall know true grace by its fruit, and its fruit is works of love. If grace is powerless to transform you, it is powerless to save you from death. Inadequate love simply means never having been saved to begin with.

“Why did no one tell me this?”

“Where you come from, they spoke so much about the forgiveness of sins that they had no time left to speak about what sin really is. They hit the mark, but the target… I’m sorry. It was the wrong one.”

What happened to Ravi?

Miller & Martin, the Atlanta-based law firm hired by Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM) to investigate allegations of sexual impropriety against their founder, released its report on Thursday.

It is devastating, to say the least.

Zacharias died in May 2020 from sarcoma. At his funeral, Mike Pence referred to him as “the C.S. Lewis of our day” and “the greatest Christian apologist of this century”, echoing a sentiment shared by millions of evangelicals worldwide.

As the RZIM website puts it, “For over 30 years and across 43 countries, RZIM has met millions of questioners with thoughtful answers concerning faith and God.” At the helm of this influential organization was the phenomenon of Ravi Zacharias – the Indian-born Canadian-American with the gentle spirit and razor-sharp intellect.

For years, the quickest draw in a duel with an atheist has been to grab your phone and swiftly swipe to a YouTube snippet of one of Ravi’s talks or viral answers to a doubting student during a Q&A in a packed auditorium at some or other famous university.

Now, we are all forced to deal with sentences such as “Tragically, witnesses described encounters including sexting, unwanted touching, spiritual abuse, and rape.” This particular statement comes from RZIM’s “Open Letter” that accompanied the release of Miller & Martin’s report, so no rumours or conjecture here.

I cannot help but wonder what the student in that video is thinking.

So what happened? Why? What are we to make of it? How should we respond?

I think the most important thing we should do is not look for new answers, because there aren’t any. Humanity is still the beast it has always been, an issue that has been dealt with in depth in the pages of Scripture. The clearest presentation of the dilemma of being human is found in Paul’s letter to the Romans, and we are all under discussion there. Ravi, you, me; all of us.

Our lives are a composite of two worlds, we read in Romans: The world of the flesh and the world of the Spirit. If we are dead in our sins – unregenerate, as we say – the world of the Spirit is reduced to the voice of the conscience; a law in our hearts that manifests as thoughts accusing or excusing us. Because of the power of conscience, Paul tells us, gentiles are just as accountable as the Jews who have a written law to guide them in matters of wrong and right.

However, neither the voice of conscience nor the Torah can provide the life-energy that is required to live up to their prohibitions and commands. For this to happen, one needs to enter the world of the Spirit and become a citizen there. This can only happen through a very real crucifixion and death to the world of the flesh and a subsequent resurrection in the world of the Spirit.

We have all kinds of fancy words to describe this passage, such as regeneration, new birth, conversion, getting saved, and so on. But it all boils down the same thing: I have died to my flesh and I am alive to the Spirit, who has now become my guide in the place of the fuzziness of my conscience and the impersonal dictates of a written code of regulations.

But here’s the thing, and Romans is pretty clear about it: Even though I have participated in this glorious transition from death to life and flesh to Spirit, it is still quite possible to exit the world of the Spirit and conduct my life in the old way of the flesh. In fact, at a certain level it is inevitable. And that is okay, because the immediacy and finality of the transition takes time to filter through to my cognition and from thereon to my actions. Life unveils itself in a fashion that can only be described as hesitantly; like a woman who guards herself ferociously until convinced that the one who pledges a commitment to her can be trusted with her gifts. It’s all one glorious process of growth and ever-increasing intimacy, until we shed our previous allegiances; not because we have to but because we want to.

In Romans, love fulfils the law and meets its obligation because the problem of illicit desire, underlying all the works of the flesh, has been overcome by non-elicit desire.

An analogy might be suitable here: It is the love that I have for my wife that has delivered me from my attractions to other females. She is the fulfilment of the law my mother gave me when she warned me against a certain type of girl. The commandment could not sustain me, I must confess, and even my nagging conscience proved little help when I was swept away by adolescent lust. But all of it disappeared when the power of love for the girl of my dreams invaded my soul. Those girls now seem bland and boring in comparison to the love of my life. I no longer have a need for mother’s prescriptions.

In Romans, as in the rest of Scripture, immunization against desire and the actions that spring forth from it is found in the realm of love. The Bible is a story of greater love subduing lesser love. It is as simple as that. The two greatest commandments are great exactly because they contain the power to deliver human beings from all their vices and addictions . “If you love me you will obey my commands,” Jesus said, and he was not kidding.

It is here where the world of the Spirit and the world of the flesh part ways. The world of the Spirit is governed by the force of love – love for God and love for neighbour. The satisfaction of intimacy with God banishes the need to be satisfied in other ways. Contentment is the distinguishing characteristic of the true believer. Just and right living is no longer legislated from the outside in, but has become an unstoppable force of passion from the inside out.

If this is true, then it means spiritual growth is nothing but an ever-increasing awareness of the beauty and sufficiency of God; not as some or other doctrine of transcendence but as a very real moment-by-moment life experience. I am constantly being weaned off my infantile dependencies. My maturity exists in my ongoing discovery that the shepherd’s green fields and still waters surpass all other sources of nutrition. My childhood cries are substituted by a single confession: “I shall not want.”

But it also means something else. Those who have wandered back to the world of the flesh and its works have done so because of one reason only: They have broken the first and greatest commandment. They loved something outside of God more than God himself. And the reason for this is that they have found a satisfaction and release in that thing – a satisfaction and release that they never discovered in God.

 “I need it,” the women quoted Ravi as saying. The great apologist understood and could defend the gospel better than anyone on the planet, but he had a need that was never satisfied in his walk with God. Whilst he excelled in the letter of Scripture, he failed in its spirit.

Ultimately, the great challenge is not to understand well, but to love well. I am convinced that our blindness and stubbornness in this regard constitutes the single biggest sin of the church of God in this present age.

This, I believe, is the word that God is speaking to us through the public disgrace of Ravi Zacharias.

Love Story

I have this against you, that you have abandoned your first love. Revelation 2:4

The above sentence is best understood when read in the light of Revelation’s last few chapters. There the church is revealed as “a bride adorned for her husband” who has made herself ready for “the marriage supper of the Lamb”.

The Bible is a story about a Bridegroom and his bride.

The imagery of this divine union is found early in Genesis, and it reaches its climax in the last chapters of Revelation. In Genesis we read about the union of the first Adam and his bride, in Revelation we read about the union of the Last Adam and his bride.

Everything in between is a commentary on this divine romance, a glorious love story of love lost and found.

Humans are obsessed with this story, even if they won’t acknowledge it. Our movies and books are filled with it: Boy meets girl, fall in love, split up and reunite. And then they live happily ever after. This is the grand narrative of the ages. This gospel is written on our hearts, and it is a tragedy if we fail to make the link between this deep intuition, this overriding passion, and our “Christian theology.”

I always marvel how easy it is for new believers to grasp the above. Their love affair with their Lord is plain to see. They are dizzy with joy and oblivious to the call of all other lovers. For them, Jesus Christ is all.

Unfortunately, the passion of the heart tends to become the knowledge of the head after a while, and then “first love” fades away like morning mist.

Love for God was never intended to be temporary. It is freely given at first, but it requires careful cultivation to become permanent.

Lessons from a Lost Son

In his classic work The Return of the Prodigal Son Henri Nouwen offers some penetrating insights into the symbolism behind the younger son’s departure. He says: “Leaving home is living as though I do not yet have a home and must look far and wide to find one. It is a denial that I belong to God with every part of my being, that God holds me safe in an eternal embrace, that I am indeed carved in the palms of God’s hands and hidden in their shadows.”

The prodigal son experienced what we would call today an “identity crisis”, a term coined by the sociologist Eric Erikson to describe that period in our teens when we struggle to dissociate ourselves from our parents with the hope of forming a secure identity. This explains the turbulence of those years. We are like strangers in a storm looking for the bridge that will take us to adulthood and safety.

The prodigal tried to solve his particular crisis by dreaming of a “distant country” where he believed he would discover himself. He had not come to terms with the fact that he was the beloved of the father, and that this constituted his identity. Instead, he chose to be defined by the world.

In his book Nouwen draws a striking parallel between the prodigal’s fantasies and the temptations of Christ. Satan offered Christ instant gratification, worldly treasures and the acclaim of the people – a shortcut to self actualisation. Yet Christ resisted these: He had just heard the voice of his Father, saying “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”

These words tell us who we are and where our true home is. When we are in touch with our sonship, as Christ was, we become immune to the onslaughts of the tempter.

A Love that Fills

As promised…

I bow my knees before the Father… that you may have strength to comprehend… the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:14-19

The “fullness of God” is a subject that has been receiving a lot of airtime lately. Everyone wants to be full of the Lord, it seems.

The problem is that not everyone agrees on how to receive this fullness. Some think they need an evangelist to pray for them during a revival service and shout “Fill!” Others retreat to a quiet place, such as nature, and spend time in deep contemplation before the Lord, waiting to receive the Spirit’s fullness. Others believe that the Lord only fills the obedient, and so they try to live blamelessly. And so on.

Whilst all of the above may be perfectly legitimate expressions of Christian devotion, the Bible portrays the fullness of God differently. According to Paul, a Christian can only be “filled with all the fullness of God” as the result of a profound revelation: The comprehension of “the breadth and length and height and depth” of Christ’s love.

To know this love, Paul says, surpasses knowledge. It cannot be taught in a classroom, studied at a seminary or learned during a clever sermon. The lover does not use messengers. He himself wants to say to the beloved “I love you.” This explains why Paul does not lecture the Ephesians on this topic, but prays to God that he will reveal it to them.

The Bible is a divine love story. The good news is that you are the bride on whom the Bridegroom wants to bestow his love, and herein lies your fullness.

Love Over Coffee

I went for a bike ride this morning and ended up sipping a hot cuppa in the corner of a delightful coffee shop. What a blessing to enjoy God’s goodness and beauty in the small things of life! Truly, he is everywhere if we would only look.

As I paged through the day’s paper my eyes fell on a quote by Albert Schweitzer: “Success does not lead to happiness, happiness leads to success.” How true.

It took me many years to discover that God’s perfection is best expressed in humanity’s contentment. (By the way, this has been a cornerstone of many Christians’ theological understanding long before John Piper was born, and you most certainly do not need to be a Calvinist to grasp it!) Our satisfaction testifies to the sufficiency of God’s grace, to put it differently. This means that Christians are meant to be truly happy people. It also means that if you are not truly happy, you are missing some pieces of your theological puzzle or its application to your life.

Perhaps a personal reference would be in order here. I came into this world with an inexplicable melancholia that ended up haunting me on a near daily basis. This continued for many years after my conversion. I eventually concluded (rather prideful, I should add), that the hollow emptiness at the core of my being was the downside of my artistic and bookish inclinations. And so I imagined myself as being in the same band as Hemmingway, Churchill and all the tortured poets who constantly had to fight their suicidal tendencies.

I was mistaken. My “impenetrable fog”, as Abe Lincoln used to refer to his depression, vanished when the sun of God’s love shone over it. And in its stead an indescribable joy bubbled up from deep within. I was no tortured genius. I was a poor lost soul who took way too long to grasp the central message of the Bible, namely that God loves me just as (JUST AS, get it?) he loves Christ. When that penny dropped my years of theological training, articles I had written, sermons I had preached and theological battles I had fought underwent a baptism of mammoth proportions. And what emerged was… new. Very new. In fact, so new that it appeared to be a different gospel to the one that I had been spreading for many years. Paul put it well: It all amounted to nothing because it was not based on love.

The man who writes these words is now a very, very happy man. I am indeed obsessed with the love of God. I sleep it, drink it, think it, talk it, preach it. This discovery has been my treasure in the field, and I gladly rid myself of everything in order to buy the field and unearth the treasure. And what a treasure it is! I have subsequently discovered that the two greatest motivators on planet earth, fear and fullness (or happiness, if you wish), are directly linked to the love of God, the former negatively and the latter positively. I have discovered even more, much more than I can ever share with words. This chest has no bottom. Truly, the love of God is beyond description. It is as infinite as God is infinite, for God is love. And if all else pass away, love will remain… and remain… and remain…

I dedicated my weekly newspaper column to this glorious truth. As it will only be out tomorrow, I cannot post it yet. But I will do so the moment it hits the streets.