Rob Faircloth

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. Romans 1:16

Presumably we Christians believe that the gospel is powerful for salvation, for bringing men from darkness to light, from condemnation to justification, from enmity with God to reconciliation with him. In essence, for assuring that those who believe in Christ will go to heaven when they die.

Yet in some areas we act as if this is the only thing that the gospel is good for – holy fire insurance – and that it has no other effect before we die.

Certainly it is true that for the gospel to be powerful to change my behavior or my condition, it must first be powerful in bringing me from spiritual death to spiritual life – ‘salvation’ in its narrowest sense. But then, after powerfully changing my eternal condition, it is powerful for my transformation into the likeness of Christ – ‘salvation’ in its fullest sense.

When we say, however, that we can’t discipline other members of our congregations, or exhort those contemplating divorce to consider other solutions, or challenge men to holiness, or expect better things from those calling themselves ‘Christian,’ we are saying that the gospel is not powerful. We are saying that though the gospel is powerful to keep me from being a resident of hell, it is impotent to make me a resident of heaven.

In fact, the church has forsaken the transformation power of the gospel in favor of worldly methods. We are saying, in effect, that the truth cannot, in fact, set us free.

Posted on the marquis of a public middle school: “It doesn’t matter what you believe — only that you believe.”

Let’s hold off, for a moment, on the standard jokes regarding the competency of public schools to educate, and test this proposition. Let’s suppose that a middle school student could actually read the marquis and began to put its truth proposition into practice (and yes, the statement is a proposition about truth, regardless of its contention that truth does not matter). Sammy Student formulates the belief, based upon his school marquis, that good grades were not dependent upon completing coursework, paying attention in class, or even upon attending school. He receives an “F” (this may be a bit unrealistic, because giving bad grades could be considered too “judgmental”) but “believes” that it is an “A”, and his fragile self-esteem is, at least temporarily, preserved.

Or, lets suppose that Sammy believes that drugs were not truly illegal. Or that it was acceptable for him to beat another student senseless in the bathroom. Or that strapping explosives to his chest and blowing his student body (in both senses) to smithereens would make him a hero.

Would it be any comfort, or would it meet reality in any sense, for him to explain these things “Well, I believed, and isn’t that what really matters?”

What I “believe” is that this vacuous, feel-good tripe is both unlivable and self-contradictory. As Sammy Student so painfully discovers, the proposition does not enable him to live his life, because he would not live long believing “It will not hurt me if I step in front of this chicken truck.” Furthermore, the statement is self-defeating. If it does not matter what I believe, then I don’t need to believe this statement. Because it proposes an accurate assessment of reality, it is a truth claim. But if the statement is true, it proves itself untrue.

Is this what passes for education? Or what people believe about life? I believe so, and that is what matters.

Month: January 2016

What is the Gospel good for?

Faith in “Faith”