Three in One

I’ve been following with some interest the conversation between T. D. Jakes, Mark Driscoll, and James MacDonald, over the doctrine of the Trinity. I confess I have some concerns. Having perused the material, T. D. Jakes still sounds like a modalist to me.

What is modalism? In brief, it’s a heretical movement that arose in the third and fourth centuries. Adherents maintained that God is an absolute monad without distinctions within the unity. That is to say, they affirmed that there isn’t any numerical distinction within the Godhead. God is one indivisible essence with three fundamental activities. As such, He has appeared in history under three successive aspects: (1) as the Father (the Creator); (2) as the Son (the Redeemer); and (3) as the Holy Spirit (the Divine Presence). And so, according to modalism, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit aren’t three distinct persons, who are one essence. Rather, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are three manifestations of one person. God’s name – “the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit” – simply represents three distinctions in our experience of the one God.

Obviously, modalism is a long way from orthodox Christianity. As Trinitarians, we affirm that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are three persons. We also affirm that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are one essence. God is triune – He’s three (tri) persons in one (une) essence. “We worship one God in Trinity and Trinity in unity, without either confusing the persons or dividing the substance… Thus the Father is God, the Son is God, the Spirit is God; and yet there are not three Gods, but there is one God.” Amen.

Why should this interest us? Why should the conversation between Jakes, Driscoll, and MacDonald concern us? Let me frame the question another way: Why should we cherish the doctrine of the Trinity?

(1) It’s foundational

When we speak of God triune, we aren’t being academically picky or theologically fussy. Despite what countless people will tell us, this doctrine isn’t irrelevant or unimportant. Here’s why: if we aren’t worshipping God as He reveals Himself to be… if we aren’t worshipping God according to His name… if we aren’t worshipping God triune… then we’re worshipping an idol. There’s no other possibility. There’s no wiggle room here. Modalism isn’t a Christian belief system. There’s no such thing as a Christian modalist.

(2) It’s exceptional

The doctrine of the Trinity distinguishes Christianity from all other religions. In other words, it sets Christianity apart from all other belief systems. As Christians, we don’t have anything in common with any other religion. Why? There’s only one God, and He’s God triune. That’s why the church has traditionally stressed the Apostles’ Creed. When we recite the Creed, we affirm our belief in God, who is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. That’s the starting-point for the Christian faith.

(3) It’s personal

The religions of the world go in one of two directions. Some stress God as infinite and transcendent; e.g., Islam. Some stress God as personal and immanent; e.g., Hinduism. Christianity alone teaches that God is both. God dwells in unapproachable light, yet God is in relationship with Himself. And God draws His people into that relationship. “That which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ” (1 Jn. 1:3).

(4) It’s essential

Our salvation rests upon the doctrine of the Trinity. We’re “elect… according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, in the sanctification of the Spirit, for obedience to Jesus Christ and for sprinkling with his blood” (1 Pet. 1:1–2). We praise the Father for choosing us, the Son for redeeming us, and the Holy Spirit for sanctifying us. We praise God triune for the eternal covenant of redemption whereby the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit accomplish our salvation. “All non-Trinitarian formulations of the gospel message are by biblical standards inadequate and indeed fundamentally false, and will naturally tend to pull Christian lives out of shape” (J. I. Packer).

(5) It’s missional

The Father sends the Son into the world to redeem His people. The Son sends the Holy Spirit into the world to regenerate His people. God sends us into the world to proclaim the gospel. As Christians, therefore, our mission is Trinitarian. It’s an extension of the Holy Spirit, who was sent by the Son, who was sent by the Father. That gives perspective to all we do. We see our calling as an extension of the activity of God triune. We see the purpose of our calling as the glory of God triune.

(6) It’s delightful

God’s tri-unity is fundamental to a proper understanding of His love. Why? It means love is essential to His eternal self. In a word, God is the object of His love. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit dwell in an eternity of mutual delight. That means He’s satisfied in Himself. He doesn’t need to love us, nor does He need us to love Him. He doesn’t gain anything from loving us. That shouldn’t trouble us or offend us. It should comfort us, because that’s the kind of love we need. In a word, we need someone to love us, who doesn’t need us. That’s pure love. And God has that love in Himself. Here’s the wonderful thing: He lavishes it upon His people.

(7) It’s fundamental

By this, I mean the doctrine of the Trinity is fundamental to the cross. As Christ hangs upon the cross, He cries with a loud voice: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matt. 27:46). We must be clear here. (1) Christ doesn’t cry with a loud voice, because of what men do to Him. They reject Him, assault Him, ridicule Him, betray Him, and desert Him. But those things never cause Him to cry with a loud voice. (2) Christ doesn’t cry with a loud voice, because of His physical suffering. In terms of His physical pain, we must admit that others have suffered as much and perhaps more than Him. (3) Christ cries with a loud voice, because of His sense of His Father’s displeasure. As He hangs on the cross, there are two eclipses. The first is external: it hides the light of the sun. The second is internal: it hides the light of the Father’s countenance. Christ is in complete darkness (external and internal). Why? His Father has forsaken Him. The Father withdraws the light of His countenance from His Son. The Father strikes the Son. The Father does not spare His Son (Rom. 8:32). Christ submits to desertion – that which we deserve for deserting God.

Quotable: “When we have said these three things – that there is but one God, that the Father and the Son and the Spirit is each God, that the Father and the Son and the Spirit is each a distinct person – we have enunciated the doctrine of the Trinity in its completeness” (B. B. Warfield).

The Blessed Man

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose trust is the LORD. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit” (Jer. 17:7–8).

(1) What is blessedness?

It’s happiness, satisfaction, or contentment. John Calvin describes it as “true peace of mind.” Everyone wants it, yet very few people find it. Why? They look for it in all the wrong places.

(2) What is the source of blessedness?

It’s God. The mind can only be satisfied by what’s true. The heart can only be satisfied by what’s beautiful. The will can only be satisfied by what’s good. Therefore, the soul can only be satisifed in God - all that's true, beautiful, and good. To be blessed is to know God. It’s to love God. It’s to trust God. It’s to trust Him for guidance. It’s to trust Him for provision and protection. Above all else, it’s to trust Him for salvation.

These verses in Jeremiah are actually part of a larger section, in which God compares two men.

On the one hand, there’s a “cursed” man. He’s cursed, because he trusts in man. As a result, he’s like a bush, planted in the middle of the desert. When drought comes, he withers. This man doesn’t think he needs saving. He thinks he’s okay without God. If there’s a God, and if there’s a heaven and hell, and if there’s a judgment, he thinks he’ll be alright. But he isn’t alright. “The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick” (Jer. 17:9).

On the other hand, there’s a “blessed” man. He’s blessed, because he trusts in God. He knows his heart is desperately sick. He knows he needs forgiveness. He knows he needs a Savior – Jesus Christ. To trust in God is to trust in Christ. It’s to accept the fact that I can’t obey God, and that I deserve to be punished. It’s to believe that Christ has obeyed God on behalf of sinners, and that Christ has been punished on behalf of sinners. As the apostle Paul declares, “Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord will not take into account” (Rom. 4:7).

(3) What is the fruit of blessedness?

First, the “blessed” man perseveres. A tree, planted by streams of water, is free from the crippling damage of drought. Similarly, when trials and tribulations appear, the blessed man is protected. Because of his relationship to the river (God), he’s able to persevere despite all that happens to him. He draws his strength from God.

Second, the “blessed” man prospers. A tree, planted by streams of water, bears fruit. Its leaf remains green. Likewise, the blessed man does not cease to bear fruit. He prospers in his personal life, growing and maturing spiritually. He prospers in his marriage and family. He prospers in all his relationships.


Quotable: “Millions of men mistake both the nature of blessedness and the way thither” (Thomas Watson).

Who would want the apostle Paul as a pastor?

“How would the apostle Paul fare if he were to seek pastoral employment among evangelicals today?” (David Wells). That is an interesting question. I've summarized Wells' answer as follows.

Many would be offended by his personality. He wasn’t known for his charisma. He wasn’t very engaging. He wasn’t primarily concerned about making friends or building relationships. He wasn’t accepting of everyone. By today’s standards, his personality would be seen as an obstacle to creating a comfortable, friendly, welcoming environment.

Many would be scandalized by his insistence on church discipline. He was in the habit of confronting and rebuking people. He viewed it as necessary. He handed people over to Satan, if they refused to repent. By today’s standards, his insistence on doctrinal fidelity and moral purity would be seen as unloving. He would be dismissed as harsh and judgmental.

Many would be insulted by his refusal to grant the legitimacy of each person’s private views. He insisted that truth is given objectively in Christ, not subjectively through private intuition. He was committed to Scripture, not a voice in the back of his head. In a sea of relativism, he proclaimed God’s Word. By today’s standards, his commitment to absolute truth would be seen as intolerant and arrogant. He would seem pathetically out of touch.

Many would be confused by his preaching. He never told stories. His preaching was never inspirational. He never gave practical “how-to” seminars. He preached sermons that lasted more than 20 minutes. He continually related NT faith to OT promises. As a matter of fact, the OT provided the framework for his preaching. He wasn’t guided by the latest headlines, latest philosophies, latest trends, or latest world events. By today’s standards, his preaching skills would be seen as severely lacking – his preaching would be viewed as boring. He would probably fail most seminary courses in homiletics.

Many would be agitated by his theological focus. He defined all things according to God’s glory, not man’s happiness. He insisted on explaining complex theological concepts. He used terms unknown to his audience – justification, sanctification, regeneration were as unknown then as they are now. He viewed the knowledge of God as an end in itself – after all, what could be more beneficial than knowing God? By today’s standards, he would be seen as too bookish, too irrelevant, and too impractical.

Quotable: “Paul would probably be condemned to flit from place to place, not out of choice but necessity… his resume fatally scarred by his many pastoral failures until, abandoned and worn out, he would be left to pass his closing days in a home for the aged” (David Wells).

Itching Ears

In 2 Timothy 4:2, Paul charges Timothy to “preach the word.”

To preach is to proclaim as a herald. In ancient times, a herald was a king’s primary means of communication with his subjects. With that relationship in mind, Paul charges Timothy to be God’s herald. Interestingly, his charge follows his declaration that “all Scripture is breathed out by God” (2 Timothy 3:16). In other words, Scripture is the Word of the living God. It’s His message to His subjects. Therefore, it alone is what the preacher proclaims.

Paul proceeds to tell Timothy what his preaching must look like. In short, it must (1) evidence conviction (“be ready in season and out of season”), (2) expose sin (“reprove, rebuke”), (3) encourage obedience (“exhort”), (4) exemplify patience (“with complete patience”), and (5) emphasize doctrine (“teaching”).

Why does Paul charge Timothy to preach like this? The answer is found in verses 3–5. To sum up, people have “itching ears,” meaning they gravitate to preaching that caters to their passions. Two thousands years later, Paul’s charge is just as timely. As I survey North American evangelicalism, I see four “itches” that people want scratched…

(1) They itch for the sensational

Some people love a good conspiracy theory. Some people love novelty. Some people love controversy. As a result, they gravitate to the “new” – what they perceive as exciting. And so, they’re more interested in the identity of Gog and Magog than in the doctrine of God’s sovereignty. They’re more interested in dreams and visions than in the faith once for all delivered to the saints. They’re more interested in hidden numerical codes than in the doctrine of the imputation of Christ’s righteousness. They’re more interested in dooms-day theories than in the pursuit of holiness. They’re more interested in the “Da Vinci Code” than in sound historical analysis. They’re more interested in “The Shack” than in sound biblical theology. They’re more interested in “23 Minutes in Hell” than in sound biblical faith.

(2) They itch for the sensual

Some people love the spicy and saucy. Last week, Mark Driscoll sent a shock wave through the blogosphere with his new book. There was even an article on the CNN website. From all reports, his book is controversial. The book’s merit or demerit doesn’t interest me right now. (It does concern me, but not in terms of the point I’m making here.) My present concern is that people are drawn to this sort of thing. Why? We’ve witnessed a steady decline in moderation among those professing to be God’s people. As I survey the land, I find I’m asking more and more: Where’s the sense of decency? Where’s the love for wholesomeness? Where’s the desire for purity? It seems to me that, generally speaking, God’s people have become so desensitized by their close proximity to the world that they’ve lost their tender conscience. Nothing shocks them anymore. Is this a sign of sexual wholeness or sexual perversion?

(3) They itch for the sinful

Some people want others to condone their sin. This is often masked behind cries for tolerance and acceptance. The promiscuous wants to hear that what he does in private is his own business. The materialist wants to hear that his money is for his personal use. The alcoholic wants to hear that his sin is actually a physical disease. The carnal wants to hear that he can approach God however he pleases. The idolater wants to hear that he can serve God and follow his own ambitions. The legalist wants to hear that God does keep score. The idle wants to hear that some sins are mere trifles. The misogynist wants to hear that he’s exercising his God-given authority in the home. The embittered wants to hear that he has a right to be angry. The irresponsible wants to hear that someone else is to blame.

(4) They itch for the sentimental

Some people want to hear about the perfectibility of man, not the depravity of man. They want to hear that God wills their prosperity, not their adversity. They want to hear that God loves them unconditionally, not that He unconditionally commands them to repent. They want to hear that God is concerned about their happiness, not their holiness. They want to hear that God is satisfied with semi-regular Sunday-attendance, a few cold prayers, and a half-baked faith, not that He (a great King) demands their absolute allegiance. They want to hear that God is accepting, not that He has ordained a narrow gate that leads to a narrow way.

Summary

As sinners, when we hear God’s Word, we come to a fork in the road. We face two choices: (1) we can submit to it; or (2) we can find a church that will tell us what we want to hear. There are plenty out there.

As sinners, when we preach God’s Word, we come to a fork in the road. We face two choices: (1) we can declare it; or (2) we can adapt its teaching to cater to itching ears – the opinions, sentiments, lifestyles, desires, and values of the age in which we live.

In the face of that trend, Paul charges Timothy to “preach the word.”


Quotable: “He who is in a worldly condition cannot judge spiritual realities properly” (Jonathan Edwards).

A New Year's Resolution

On Jan. 1, 1705, Matthew Henry penned the following New Year’s resolution: “Lord, grant that this year I may be more holy, and walk more closely than ever in all holiness; I earnestly desire to be filled with your holy thoughts, to be carried out in holy affections, determined by holy aims and intentions, and governed in all my words and actions by holy principles. O that a golden thread of holiness may run through the whole web of this year.”

I’ve heard people express similar sentiments – not in so eloquent terms.

I want to be more zealous in pursuing holiness. I struggle with the same sins. As long as I avoid public sins, I deceive myself into thinking I’m alright. I’m too casual and careless.

I want to be more sincere in praying. My mind wanders. When others pray in public, I rarely pay attention. By the time I hear Amen, I have no clue what has been said.

I want to be more diligent in serving. It’s much easier to remain uninvolved. Besides, I’m busy with other things. Besides, I’m not sure I’m really needed or appreciated.

I want to be more consistent in suffering. The tiniest inconvenience overwhelms me. I’m up and down like a yo-yo, depending on my circumstances.

I want to be more courageous in witnessing. I have so compartmentalized my life that I don’t live out the Christian faith at home or work or school.

I want to be more cautious in speaking. Words escape my mouth before I have time to think. I’d like to speak less and listen more.

I want to be more faithful in reading and studying. I know the Bible is God-breathed, but there’s always some distraction, keeping me from the Word.

It’s a new year. Like Matthew Henry, we decide to make some resolutions. But there’s a problem: we make plans, but we seldom see them to completion. Why? We lack the necessary motivation. If we want to resolve ourselves to grow in godliness, we must grasp what it means to live coram Deo.

In 1 Tim. 6:13, Paul writes, “I charge you in the presence of God, who gives life to all things, and of Christ Jesus, who in his testimony before Pontius Pilate made the good confession…” In 2 Tim. 4:1, Paul writes, “I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom…”

Paul’s main point is this: God sees, and we must act accordingly.

When Hagar flees from Sarah, she ends up in the wilderness. She’s in a state of despair. God tells her that she’s going to have a son, Ishmael. And He makes a number of promises. Hagar responds, “You are a God of seeing (El Roi)” (Gen. 16:13). That truth is affirmed throughout Scripture. God is present everywhere. “God’s center is everywhere, His circumference is nowhere” (Thomas Watson). Therefore, He’s a God of seeing. Our lives are open to His continual gaze. That’s the starting-point for living coram Deo, but it isn’t enough. Lots of people believe God sees, yet it makes little difference to the way they live.

Last June, the Boston Bruins beat the Vancouver Canucks in the Stanley Cup Final. After the final game, an orgy of destruction erupted in downtown Vancouver. It was captured on video. Traffic cameras, mounted at intersections, captured the destruction. Security cameras, mounted on stores and offices, captured the destruction. Hundreds of people with phone cameras captured the destruction. It took the police thousands of man-hours to watch all the video. The rioters knew the cameras were there. It didn’t stop them.

Similarly, lots of people know God sees, but it doesn’t affect them. Living coram Deo is much more than simply acknowledging God sees. To live before God is to have a deep sense of His majesty and mercy, whereby we fear to offend Him and long to please Him.

(1) We have a deep sense of God’s majesty and mercy

In other words, we don’t merely know that God sees. We know the God who sees. Paul emphasizes two truths in 1 Tim. 6:13 and 2 Tim. 4:1.

First, God gives life to all things (1 Tim. 6:13)

In this, we see God’s majesty. “Who made God?” The answer is this: God is uncreated. Why? He’s self-existent. Why? He has life in Himself. That reminds us of His majesty – His greatness. “From him and through him and to him are all things” (Rom. 11:36). (1) From him. He’s the efficient cause: the source from which all things exist. (2) Through him. He’s the instrumental cause: the means through which all things exist. (3) To him. He’s the final cause: the end for which all things exist. In a word, this universe is the stage on which God displays His majesty: “Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power; for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created” (Rev. 4:11).

In this, we see God’s mercy. God upholds the universe by His power. He holds the planets in orbit. He sends the sun and rain. He sustains the beasts of the field and birds of the air. He gives breath to man. Prior to the fall, these were acts of grace – apart from merit. After the fall, these became acts of mercy – against merit. In a 24-hour period, we take 21,600 breaths – each is an expression of God’s mercy.

Second, God judges the living and the dead (2 Tim. 4:1)

In this, we see God’s majesty. A day of judgment is coming. Christ will be revealed in flaming fire (2 Thess. 1:8). He will destroy His enemies. Their punishment will be the destruction, not of their being, but of their bliss. As Christ hangs on the cross, there are two eclipses. The first is external: it hides the light of the sun. The second is internal: it hides the light of the Father’s countenance. God forsakes Christ. That’s the essence of hell. God will forsake unbelievers for all eternity.

In this, we see God’s mercy. “And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him” (Heb. 9:27–28). According to this verse, Christ appears twice. (1) He has already appeared, “having been offered once to bear the sins of many.” He came in the flesh to make atonement for sin. Christ submitted to desertion – that which we deserve for deserting God. (2) He will appear “a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.” That appearing will be terrible for unbelievers, but wonderful for believers.

(2) We fear to offend God

There are two kinds of fear.

First, there’s ungodly fear; it’s accompanied with hate. It’s caused by a sense of God’s majesty alone. We see it in Christ’s encounter with Legion (Matt. 8 and Lk. 8). People witness the encounter. They see the demon-possessed man run to meet Christ. They see him prostrate himself before Christ. They hear his cry. They hear Christ speak to the demons. They see the swine run down the hill into the sea. They see it all. Luke tells us that they became frightened. In this state, they run back to the village to report all that happened. All the people of the country of the Gerasenes come to meet Christ. Luke tells us that they’re gripped with great fear. How do they react? They ask Him to leave. They’ve just witnessed a manifestation of divine power. They’ve just seen the Son of the Most High God exercise His authority as Possessor of heaven and earth. They’ve lived with the demoniac for some time. They know, first hand, the power of these demons. Yet their only concern is self-preservation. At that moment, Christ is nothing more to them than a perceived threat. They hate Him. And so, they ask Him to leave. They’re more comfortable with the demon-possessed man than with the Son of the Most High God – the Possessor of heaven and earth. That’s ungodly fear.

Second, there’s godly fear; it’s accompanied with love. It’s caused by a deep sense of God’s majesty and mercy. The Father and the Son dwell in an eternity of mutual delight. At the cross, the Father forsakes the Son. Christ no longer enjoys that mutual delight. He no longer experiences that heavenly joy. The Father withdraws the light of His countenance. Does that not cause you to love Christ? Does it move you to think of what Christ has done for you? Godly fear is accompanied with love, because it arises from a deep sense of both God’s majesty and mercy. It creates a tender heart, whereby we fear to offend Him.

(3) We long to please God

This past summer, the Paluxy River in Glen Rose was bone-dry. Why did it dry up? No rain! That’s precisely what happens when there’s no fear of God in the heart. The desire to please God dries up. The fear of God is the fountain from which all obedience flows. “Oh that they had such a mind as this always, to fear me and to keep my commandments, that it might go well with them and their descendants forever!” (Deut. 5:29).

And that’s what it means to live coram Deo.

Quotable: “There are two things that render Christ’s love wonderful: 1. That he should be willing to endure sufferings that were so great; and 2. That he should be willing to endure them to make atonement for wickedness that was so great” (Jonathan Edwards).

All Things

“He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Rom. 8:32). In this verse, Paul states two facts, before drawing a conclusion.

Fact #1: God did not spare His own Son

That statement takes us back to Genesis 22, where God commands Abraham to offer his son, Isaac, upon the altar: “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you” (v 2).

We must pause here, just for a moment. I realize many people object to this story. Why? They think it makes God a monster. What kind of God asks someone to sacrifice his child? That’s despicable. In Homer’s Iliad, king Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter, in order to please the gods, so that they grant favorable winds for his journey to Troy. Is that what’s happening here? Is God some tyrant, searching for a bloody sacrifice? To understand God’s command, we need to remember a few things. (1) We need to remember that Abraham and his family are sinners. (2) We need to remember that the wages of sin is death. (3) We need to remember that the firstborn is the family. When God told Abraham to offer Isaac, He was calling in Abraham’s debt. Abraham’s son was going to die for the sins of the family.

Now, let’s return to Genesis 22. Abraham obeys. He’s ready to plunge the knife into his son. But God speaks: “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld (spared) your son, your only son, from me” (v 12). Isaac is Abraham’s son – his only son, his beloved son. But Abraham doesn’t spare him. Years later, on these same mountains, God doesn’t spare His only Son, His beloved Son.

The angels are God’s sons by creation (Job 1:6). The saints are God’s sons by adoption (Rom. 8:14). Christ is God’s only Son by nature. He’s co-eternal, co-equal, and co-essential with the Father. Yet, at the time of His greatest distress, His Father doesn’t spare Him. God hears Naaman, when he cries for healing. He hears Hannah, when she cries for a child. He hears Hagar, when she cries for help. He hears the Ninevites, when they cry for mercy. He hears Elijah, when He cries for assistance. When Christ cries with a loud voice, there’s deafening silence.

Christ doesn’t cry with a loud voice, because of what men do to Him. They reject Him, assault Him, ridicule Him, betray Him, and desert Him. But those things never cause Him to cry with a loud voice.

Christ doesn’t cry with a loud voice, because of His physical suffering. If we look merely at His physical pain, we must admit that others have suffered as much and perhaps more than Him.

Christ cries with a loud voice, because of His sense of His Father’s displeasure. As He hangs on the cross, there are two eclipses. The first is external: it hides the light of the sun. The second is internal: it hides the light of the Father’s countenance. Christ is in complete darkness (external and internal). Why? God has forsaken Him.

This separation isn’t the dissolution of the union between the Father and the Son. That’s impossible. God is one indivisible essence. Christ declares, “I and the Father are one” (Jn. 10:30).

This separation isn’t the dissolution of the union between the divine nature and the human nature. That’s impossible. “None of the rulers of this age understood this, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (1 Cor. 2:8).

This separation is a suspension of God’s comfort. As Christians, we believe God is triune. We confess it in the Apostle’s Creed. We confess it, when we’re baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit (Matt. 28:19). We believe the Father is God, the Son is God, and the Spirit is God. We also believe the Father isn’t the Son, the Son isn’t the Spirit, and the Spirit isn’t the Father. That is to say, we believe God is three distinct persons in one substance. That’s important for understanding God’s love. Why? Love requires multiplicity. Love requires an object. Since God is love, He must have an object to love. He must be more than one person. The Father, the Son, and the Spirit love each other. God dwells in an eternity of mutual delight.

Yet, at the cross, the Father forsakes the Son. In other words, Christ no longer enjoys that mutual delight. He no longer experiences that heavenly joy. The Father withdraws the light of His countenance. God does not spare His Son.

Fact #2: God gave up His Son for us all

Why did God need to do that? The answer: we’re wicked. Sin has dominion over us.

At times, sin’s dominion is obvious. Some people live with the visible effects and consequences of their sin. It takes a toll on their body, appearance, family, etc. I lectured for several years at Toronto Baptist Seminary, located on Jarvis Street – a rough part of town. I didn’t have to walk very far to see a drunk on a park bench or a prostitute on a street corner. In such cases, sin’s dominion is obvious.

At times, sin’s dominion isn’t so obvious. It’s hidden. It’s secret. But it’s just as real, just as powerful, and just as wicked. Sin has many manifestations, but it always has the same root: idolatry. We make idols out of just about everything we touch – food, possessions, cars, etc. We make idols out of our emotions – fear, hate, love, etc. We make idols out of our relationships. We make idols out of sports. We make idols out of successes and failures. There are very few things that we don’t turn into idols.

We’re wicked, because we’ve forsaken God. But God gave up His Son for us all. Christ submitted to desertion – that which we deserve for deserting God. “He poured out his soul to death and was numbered with the transgressors” (Isa. 53:12). Christ didn’t take the stain of our sin upon Himself, but the guilt of our sin. He was condemned, so that we might be justified. He was punished, so that we might be pardoned. He was cursed, so that we might be blessed. He was wounded, so that we might be healed. He was forsaken, so that we might be accepted.

Conclusion: God will graciously give us all things

Having stated those two facts, Paul draws his conclusion. If God didn’t spare His own Son but delivered Him over for us all, then all things belong to us. “All things belong to you, and you belong to Christ; and Christ belongs to God” (1 Cor. 3:22–23). If the purchasing price of our inheritance was Christ’s blood, then we’ll most certainly receive the inheritance.


Quotable: “In giving His Son, He gave everything. The cross is the guarantee of the continuing, unfailing generosity of God” (John Stott).

God's Perfect Gift

What makes the perfect gift?

First, what it costs the person who gives. The gift must involve a measure of sacrifice in terms of thought, time, creativity, effort, energy, etc. The sacrifice is the expression of love.

Second, what it offers the person who receives. The gift must satisfy a need. I didn’t say it must meet a desire. Often times, our desires can be sinful. It must satisfy a real need.

In short, the perfect gift must cost the giver and bless the receiver. We see both in John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” There are four things, in this verse, that make God’s love wonderful.

(1) The Object of God’s Love: “the world”

The world is man, covered in the filth of his sin. Most of us think of our sin in terms of breaking God’s rules. That’s transgression. While sin includes transgression, it isn’t limited to transgression. The essence of sin is loving the wrong thing. We make things more important than our relationship with God. Our refusal to center our lives on God is the nature of sin. Our refusal to love God supremely is the nature of sin. Yet “God shows his love for us that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:9).

(2) The Expression of God’s Love: “that he gave his only Son”

God gives Christ in two ways.

First, God gives Christ for us, in that He redeems us. He pays the penalty for our sin, on the cross. Love left a glorious crown. Love came in humility. Love walked in our flesh. Love took our infirmities. Love gave sight to the blind, speech to the dumb, hearing to the deaf, and life to the dead. Love was hungry, thirsty, and weary. Love was in a bloody agony. Love was sorrowful unto death. Love was betrayed, arrested, and condemned. Love was pierced with thorns, scourged with cords, and pierced with nails. Love climbed a shameful cross. Love bore the guilt and shame. “The essence of sin is we human beings substituting ourselves for God, while the essence of salvation is God substituting himself for us. We put ourselves where only God deserves to be; God puts himself where we deserve to be” (John Stott).

Second, God gives Christ to us, in that He converts us. He makes us one with Christ. As a result of this union, we enjoy the benefits of the cross. His forgiveness is greater than our sin. His merit is greater than our guilt. His strength is greater than our weakness. His humility is greater than our pride. His sufferings are greater than our failures. His fullness is greater than our want. His tenderness is greater than our temptation. His righteousness is greater than our vileness.

(3) The Nature of God’s Love: “that whoever believes in him”

As humans, we need love, just like we need food and water. We can’t live without it. Therefore, when we love, we expect to be loved in return. That means our love is always self-serving to some degree. But God’s love isn’t like that. He doesn’t need to love us, nor does He need us to love Him. He doesn’t gain anything from loving us. That’s pure love. God has that love in Himself. And here’s the wonderful thing: He lavishes it upon His children. What a glorious truth! We don’t need to earn God’s love. We don’t need to merit God’s love. We don’t need to worry that God’s love for us will change. We don’t need to worry that God’s love for us is contingent upon our performance. God’s love is merciful. We simply believe. To believe is to receive God’s gift.

(4) The Result of God’s Love: “should not perish but have eternal life”

Here, Christ states the same truth negatively and positively. Negatively: we’re saved from perishing. To perish is to be forsaken by God for eternity. Positively: we’re saved to eternal life. We enjoy that life right now, as we live in the light of God’s favor. One day, we’ll enjoy it in full.

Quotable: “There are two things that render Christ’s love wonderful: 1. That he should be willing to endure sufferings that were so great; and 2. That he should be willing to endure them to make atonement for wickedness that was so great” (Jonathan Edwards).