We need more than Forgiveness
Jeremiah and the missing piece of Christian righteousness
With the recent fall of a high profile, now deceased Christian leader, I decided (rightly or wrongly) to do some retrospective forensics. By this I mean that, not having been very familiar with the work of Ravi Zacharias previously, I decided to go back and watch some of his talks online, to see if there had been obvious signs in his sermons that something wasn’t right. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, so the usefulness of this exercise is questionable, I grant you, but it did prove interesting. With very limited knowledge of his work, I can confidently say 3 things: he talked a lot about Jesus, he talked a lot about the cross, and he talked a lot about forgiveness as a free gift. That all sounds good, doesn’t it? There aren’t necessarily any clear alarm bells here.
My knowledge of Ravi Zacharias’ work is very (very) limited, but from what I have seen, it at least reminded me of what is a very prevalent gap in our presentation in the gospel which, at first sight, to many Christians may not even be obvious. I won’t make this a distinct criticism of one speaker over another, as I am not qualified to do this, nor is this the time for it, but the problem in our presentation of the gospel and the cross is bigger than one speaker, and so this is the problem that I want to address here.
If we have some church background, we have probably heard a gospel message preached before, with the focus on the cross. We have heard that we are sinners, that God is holy, and that therefore we have no hope of being in this holy God’s heaven unless something is done about our sin. We have been told that our first instinct, when we hear about this problem, is probably to try, in some way, to create a way by which we can earn our forgiveness, and achieve our place in heaven, only to then realise that this is fruitless, and that only through the blood of Christ can forgiveness of sins and security of heaven be granted as a gift of God through faith, that nothing we can do could ever replace what God has already done.
Praise the Lord, this is all gloriously true. There is no way to heaven except by the atoning death of Christ, whose sacrifice and blood alone paved the way for our access to the Father. The cross speaks grace, forgiveness, love and atonement; and, most of all, it speaks of a work that Jesus alone did and that none of us could. But… that is not all the cross speaks of. In fact, there is a part of the cross that represents an example for us (See 1 Peter 2:21). When he was here on earth, Jesus said not only that he would have to go to the cross, but also that whoever wanted to be a disciple of his must follow him there (Matthew 16:24). These verses may not be unfamiliar to you, but they do pose a problem to our thinking about what the cross meant, if we are willing to challenge ourselves.
If the cross was all about Christ’s work to forgive us and assure us of heaven, something that we had no hope of doing for ourselves, then why does he ask us to follow him to the cross? Surely he doesn’t mean for us to live our lives, constantly trying to repeat his once for all atoning work? So there is a side to the cross that is unique to Christ, and another side that we must all imitate, if we are to be his disciples, and are to be glorified with him.
The idea of carrying a cross, or a wooden bar across your neck, as the symbol not only of death but of death at the hands of a foreign occupying power to whom you have submitted, is not a new one when Jesus picks it up. In the book of the prophet Jeremiah, chapters 27 and 28 speak of a sign-act that Jeremiah himself had to perform in front of the rulers of Judah. This involved making a wooden yoke for himself, and strapping it across his neck, as a symbol of the fact that Judah would imminently be forced to submit to the “yoke” or power, of Nebuchadnezzar, the King of Babylon, into whose hands God had given Jerusalem. This, understandably, proves an unpopular message, and another prophet even physically breaks the yoke from Jeremiah’s neck, claiming that he has done this with God’s authority, and that the problems that Babylon are posing to Judah will soon be over.
So, what is going on here, and what does it have to do with us? The question in Jeremiah of whether or not Judah should submit to a foreign power may seem far off, but in reality it is the same question that we are asked each day, and the same thing Jesus spoke to his disciples about when he asked them to carry a cross. In the book of Jeremiah, we are made to understand from the beginning that Babylon has been raised up by God to execute his judgment on Judah, and that the city of Jerusalem is to be given into their hands, to be destroyed. This is because of the sin of Judah, in forsaking God (See Jeremiah 1). This is the central theme and story of the first section of this book, that Judah is done, that their story is over. This is the message until, in chapter 24, there is a switch: God suddenly turns around and starts talking to Jeremiah about good and bad figs, and about how the exiles who have already been sent from Jerusalem to Babylon (the result of a previous attack detailed in 2 Kings 24 verses 8 to 17, the backdrop to these stories in Jeremiah) will be a root of future hope for the nation, while those who are left in the city and refuse to surrender to Babylon will be wiped out. This concept of God bringing hope to the exiles is continued through the rest of the book, and they are those to whom God’s great promises of future forgiveness and hope come in chapters 30 to 33.
When God has revealed his judgement on sin, and a way to forgiveness and hope beyond it, that hope is offered only to those in the book of Jeremiah who will not only repent and seek forgiveness, but, crucially, to those who will also submit to exile at the hands of Babylon, and, therefore, to God’s discipline. We need to understand this, because this is also the story that Jesus is telling us in Matthew 16, about how we must follow him to the cross. To be a follower of Christ, we need more than forgiveness, we need change, we need to not only have the slate wiped clean, we need to see the hopelessness not only of our efforts to atone (pay) for sin, but also of our efforts to prevent ourselves from continuing in sin. A cross that speaks only forgiveness and not change is not a complete cross.
You may, at this point, be worried that I am saying that something more than Christ’s sacrifice is necessary for our salvation, that our own efforts must also be added to it, and you may be getting ready to shout at me, telling me about Galatians 5 and 6, where Paul gives a detailed explanation of how the cross of Christ is the only means to salvation. Amen to that. And, for the cross of Christ to take effect for us, we have to go into exile. A faith that does not submit to God’s discipline is not a faith that has correctly understood the cross of Christ. If we, in humble and genuine repentance, have come to Christ in faith, seeing that our sin was so serious that he had to die, but also that he was so loving that he chose to die, then we have agreed with his assessment of us. We agree that we should have been on that cross, that we should have been the ones to die, that Babylon should have come, killed us and burned our houses to the ground. And so, the fact that we are alive, and have a hope ahead of us, is purely of God’s grace. And, if God is right about our sin, then he is also right that we need not just forgiveness, but also for our hearts to be transformed if we are to see his future Kingdom; and he is also right in whatever means he uses to establish his righteousness in our hearts (See Jeremiah 31:33). In the book of Jeremiah, one of the major ways in which God works with the exiles, the bearers of hope beyond this for his people, is through their submission to his discipline, under the yoke of Nebuchadnezzar in Babylon. If your sins have genuinely been pardoned by God through faith, then, congratulations, you have become an exile. You too are now in Babylon, a stranger and a foreigner, as you wait in hope of God’s coming Kingdom on earth (See 1 Peter, Hebrews 11). The circumstances of your life in a messy and uncomfortable world, under the rule of God, have now become your training ground for the holiness without which no-one will see God (Hebrews 12:14).
A gospel that stops at forgiveness of sins is no gospel at all, just as any gospel that does not include forgiveness of sins would be no gospel at all. If we are to speak of the cross, of Christ, of the gospel, then we need to know what these things mean. We need to know that, when we are in Christ, our salvation has not finished, it is only just beginning. If we are in him, there is no possibility of losing our salvation, he has purchased us and secured our redemption, he is the one holding us (see John 10, Jude 1:24). And, if we are in him, we signed up to carry a wooden cross our whole lives through, we signed up to submit our desires to his will. This means self-denial, and it may mean loneliness, it may mean rejection for his sake, it may mean prison, it may mean death, it may mean feeling like an outsider, it may mean feeling forgotten, but it is the only path to glory (2 Corinthians 4:17). It means not building our lives on our own eloquence, or strength, or popularity, or credentials (See 1 Corinthians 1:17–31). It means targeting hard, gritty, long term, lonely faithfulness and dull obedience over fame, recognition, numbers, views, likes or book sales. This is impossible for us to do alone, but thanks be to God we have a Saviour who has promised to do it in us.
To go under the cross, or to submit to the yoke of Nebuchadnezzar, means saying in our hearts: “God, I am lost, my heart is sick, and, left to myself, even after you have forgiven me, I would destroy myself. I don’t just need forgiveness, I need certainty that you will work with me to make me someone who will be a worthy citizen of your kingdom. Someone who, when temptation comes, will be able to stand, though it may seem impossible now. I need this, and I know only you can do it, so I give all the circumstances of my life into your hands to do this in me, no matter what it takes, save me completely, don’t let me fall.”
Forgiveness is the start of the gospel but, if we want to do something about the epidemic of Christian leaders who fall spectacularly, then we need a gospel that doesn’t end at forgiveness but rather one that walks us through exile with a wooden bar across our backs, all the way to glory.
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16–19)
To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy— to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen. (Jude 1:24–25)
