Called-Up

Called-Up

Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us. Because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand, and we confidently and joyfully look forward to sharing God’s glory. We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. (Rom. 5:1-3)

Batters hustling to the plate to take their swings. Questionable calls going uncontested. Umpires being thanked after the game. Fans returning foul balls. Is this Major League Baseball? Well, it was. For a few weeks during the spring of '95, professional baseball was an entirely different game. The million-dollar arms were at home. The Cadillac bats were in the rack. The contracted players were negotiating for more money. And not to be deterred by the contractual impasse, the owners decided to throw the gates open to almost anyone who knew how to field a grounder, or run out a bunt. These weren't minor-leaguers. The minor leagues were on strike, too. These were guys who went from coaching Little League one week to wearing a Padres uniform the next.

The games weren't fancy, mind you. Line drives rarely reached the outfield. One manager said his pitchers threw the ball so slowly that the radar gun couldn't clock them. A fan could shell a dozen peanuts in the time it took to relay a throw from the outfield. The players huffed and puffed more than The Little Engine That Could. But the players had fun. The diamond was studded with guys who played the game for the love of the game. When the coach said run, they ran. When he needed a volunteer to shag fly balls, a dozen hands went up. They arrived before the park opened, greasing their gloves and cleaning their cleats. And when it was time to go home, they stayed until the grounds crew ran them off.

They thanked the attendants for washing their uniforms. They thanked the caterers for the food. They thanked the fans for paying the dollar to watch. The line of players willing to sign autographs was longer than the line of fans wanting them in the first place. These guys didn't see themselves as a blessing to baseball, but baseball as a blessing to them. They didn't expect luxury; they were surprised by it. They didn't demand more playing time; they were thrilled just to play at all. It was baseball again. In Cincinnati, the general manager stepped out onto the field and applauded the fans for coming out. The Phillies gave away free hot dogs and sodas. And in the trade of the year, the Cleveland Indians gave five players to the Cincinnati Reds – for free!

It wasn't classy. Fans missed the three-run homers, and frozen-rope pick-offs. But that was forgiven for the pure joy of seeing some guys play who really enjoyed the game. And what made them so special was that they were living a life they didn't deserve. These guys didn't make it to the big leagues because of their skill; they made it because of a lock-out. They weren't picked because they were good; they were picked because they were willing. And they knew it. Not one time did you read an article about the replacement players arguing over poor pay. There was no jockeying for position. No second-guessing the management. No strikes. No walkouts. These guys didn't even complain that their names weren't stitched on the back of their jerseys. They were just happy to be on the team. Shouldn't we be, too?

Aren't we a lot like these players? If the first four chapters of Romans tell us anything, it tells us we’re living a life we don't deserve. We aren't good enough to get picked. But look at us? Suited up and ready to play. We aren't skillful enough to make the community softball league, but our names are on the greatest roster in history. Do we deserve to be here? No. But would we trade the privilege? Not for the world. Because if Paul's proclamation is true, God's grace has placed us on a dream team beyond our imagination. Our past is pardoned, and our future is secure. And lest we forget about this unspeakable gift, Paul itemizes the blessings that God's grace brings into our world. "Since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God." (v. 1)

Peace with God. What a happy consequence of faith. Not just peace between countries, or peace between neighbors, or peace at home; salvation brings peace with God. I heard a story where a monk and his apprentice were traveling from the abbey to a nearby village. The two parted company at the city gates and agreed to meet the next morning after completing their tasks. According to plan, they met and began the long walk back to the abbey. The monk noticed that the younger man was unusually quiet. So, he asked him if anything was wrong. "What’s it to you?" came the terse response. Now the monk was sure his brother was troubled, but he decided to say nothing. But soon, the distance between the two began to increase – the apprentice walked slowly, as if to separate himself from his teacher.

Finally, when the abbey was in sight, the monk stopped at the gate and waited on the student. "Tell me, my son. What troubles your soul?" The boy started to react again, but when he saw the warmth in his master's eyes, his heart began to melt. "I have sinned greatly," he sobbed. "Last night I slept with a woman and abandoned my vows. I’m not worthy to enter the abbey at your side." The teacher put his arm around the student and said, "We’ll enter the abbey together. And we’ll enter the cathedral together. And together we’ll confess your sin. No one but God will know which of the two of us fell."

Doesn't that describe what God has done for us? When we kept our sin silent, we withdrew from him. We saw him as an enemy. We took steps to avoid his presence. But our confession of faults alters our perception. God is no longer a foe but a friend. We are at peace with him. And he did more than the monk ever did. More than share in our sin, Jesus was "crushed for the evil we did. The punishment, which made us well, was given to him." (Isa. 53:5) "He accepted the shame." (Heb. 12:2) And he leads us into the presence of God.

Being ushered into God's presence is the second blessing Paul describes: "Because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand. " (Rom. 5:2) Look at the phrase, "has brought us into." The Greek word means "to usher into the presence of royalty." Twice in Ephesians Paul reminds us of our right to enter God's presence: “It is through Christ that all of us are able to come into the presence of the Father.” (Eph. 2:18) “Now we can come fearlessly right into God's presence. . . .” (Eph. 3:12) Christ meets us outside the throne room, takes us by the hand, and walks us into the presence of God. Upon entrance we find grace, not condemnation; mercy, not punishment. Where we would never be granted an audience with the king, we are now welcomed into his presence. And if you’re a parent you understand that.

For instance, if a child you don't know appears on your doorstep and asks to spend the night, what would you do? Well, you’d likely ask him his name, where he lives, find out why he’s roaming the streets, and then contact his parents. On the other hand, if a youngster enters your house escorted by your child, that child is welcome. The same is true with God. By becoming friends with the Son, we gain access to the Father. Jesus promised, "All those who stand before others and say they believe in me, I will say before my Father in heaven that * * * they belong to me." (Matt. 10:32) Because we are friends of his Son, we have an entrance into the throne room. He ushers us into that "blessing of God's grace that we now enjoy." (Rom. 5:2) This gift is not an occasional visit before God, but rather a permanent "access by faith into this grace by which we now stand." (v. 2)

And here’s where my analogy with the baseball strike of ’95 ends. The replacement players knew their status was only temporary. Their privilege lasted only as long as the strike continued. Not so with us. Our privilege lasts as long as God is faithful, and his faithfulness has never been questioned. "If we are not faithful, he will still be faithful, because he cannot be false to himself." (2 Tim. 2:13) Isaiah described God's faithfulness as the "belt around his waist." (Isa. 11:5) David said that the Lord's faithfulness "reaches to the heavens." (Ps. 36:5) I suppose the baseball analogy would work if the team owner conferred upon us the status of lifetime team members. And if that were true, our position on the team wouldn’t depend upon our performance, but upon the owner’s power. But has a baseball owner ever given such a gift? I don't think so, but God has. And God does.

Finally, note the sequence of these blessings. The first blessing deals with our past; we have peace with God because our past is pardoned. The second blessing deals with the present. We have a place with God because Jesus has presented us to his Father. Any guess what the next blessing is? Right. Our future. "… and we confidently and joyfully look forward to sharing God’s glory." (Rom. 5:2) Because of God's grace, we go from being people whose "throats are like open graves," (Ps. 5:9) to being participants in God's glory.

We were washed up and put out; now we’ve been called up and put in.

Grace,

Randy

Rrack-rracked

Rrack-rracked

All need to be made right with God by his grace, which is a free gift. They need to be made free from sin through Jesus Christ. God gave him as a way to forgive sin through faith in the blood of Jesus. (Rom. 3:24-25)

Remember the good ol' days when credit cards were imprinted by hand? The clerk would take your plastic and place it in the imprint machine, and rrack-rrack, the numbers would be registered and the purchase would be made. I learned how to operate an imprint machine at a Sears’s store where I worked in sporting goods. For about a dollar an hour I sold all sorts of sports stuff. My favorite task, however, was imprinting the customer’s credit cards, usually a Sears card. There's nothing like the surge of power you feel when you run the imprinter over the plastic. I'd usually steal a glance at the customer and watch him or her wince as I rrack-rracked his card.

Credit card purchases today aren't nearly as dramatic. Nowadays the magnetic strip is swiped or inserted in a slot. No noise. No drama. No pain. Bring back the rrack-rrack days when the purchase was announced for everyone to hear. Buying some sporting goods? Rrack-rrack. Charge some clothes? Rrack-rrack. Paying for dinner? Rrack-rrack. If the noise didn't get you, the statement at the end of the month would. Thirty days is ample time to rrack up enough purchases to rrack your budget. And a lifetime is plenty of time to rrack up some major debt in heaven.

You yell at your kids, rrack-rrack. Covet a friend's car, rrack-rrack. Envy your neighbor's success, rrack-rrack. Break a promise, rrack-rrack. Lie, rrack-rrack. Lose control, rrack-rrack. Rrack-rrack, rrack-rrack, rrack-rrack. Further and further in debt. Now, initially, we attempt to repay what we owe. So, every prayer is a check written, and each good deed is a payment made. If we can do one good act for every bad act, then won't our account kind of balance out in the end? If I can counter my cussing with compliments, and my vices with victories – then won't my account be justified? It would, except for two problems. First, I don't know the cost of each sin. The price of a baseball at Sears is easy to figure. The cost of a sin? Not so much.

What, for example, is the charge for getting mad in traffic? I get ticked off at some guy who cuts in front of me, for instance. What do I do to pay for my crime? Drive fifty in a fifty-five mile per hour zone? Give a wave and a smile to ten consecutive cars? Who knows? Or what if I wake up in a bad mood? What's the charge for a couple of mopey hours? Will one church service next Sunday offset one grumpy morning today? And what qualifies as a bad mood? Is the charge for grumpiness less on cloudy days than on sunny ones? Or am I permitted a certain number of grouchy days per year? Kind of like sick leave. It can get confusing.

And not only don't I know the cost of my sins, I don't always know the occasion of my sins. There are times when I sin and I don't even know it. How do I pay for those? Do I get an exemption based on ignorance? And what about the sins I'm committing now without realizing it? What if somebody somewhere discovers it’s a sin to play golf? Or what if God thinks the way I play golf is a sin? Not good. I'll have some serious settling up to do. And what about you? Any sins of omission on this month's statement? Did you miss a chance to do good? Overlook an opportunity to forgive? Neglect an open door to serve? Did you seize every chance to encourage your friends? Rrack-rrack, rrack-rrack, rrack-rrack.

And there are other concerns, too. The grace period, for example. My credit card allows a minimal payment and then rolls the debt into the next month. Does God? Will he let me pay off today's greed next year? And what about interest? If I leave a sin on my statement for several months, does it incur more sin? And speaking of the statement . . . . Where is it? Can I see it? Who has it? How do I pay it off? There it is.

That's the question, isn’t it? How do I deal with the debt I owe to God? Deny it? My conscience won't let me. Find worse sins in others? God won't fall for that. Claim lineage immunity? Family pride won't help. Try to pay it off? I could, but that takes us back to the problem. We don't know the cost of our sin. In fact, we don't even know how much we owe. So, what do we do?

Listen to Paul's answer. “All need to be made right with God by his grace, which is a free gift. They need to be made free from sin through Jesus Christ. God gave him as a way to forgive sin through faith in the blood of Jesus.” (Rom. 3:24-25) Simply put: the cost of your sin is more than you can afford to pay. The gift of your God is more than you can imagine. "A person is made right with God through faith," Paul explains, "not through obeying the law." (v. 28) This may very well be the most difficult spiritual truth for us to embrace. For some reason, people accept Jesus as Lord before they accept him as Savior. It's easier to comprehend his power than his mercy. We’ll celebrate the empty tomb long before we'll kneel at the cross. We, like Thomas, would die for Christ before we'd let Christ die for us. We aren't alone, however. We aren't the first to struggle with Paul's presentation of grace. Apparently, the first ones to doubt the epistle to the Romans were the first ones to read it. In fact, you get the impression that Paul expects some questions. It’s like Paul lifting his pen and imagining his readers – some squirming, some doubting, and some denying. Anticipating their thoughts, he deals with their objections head-on.

The first objection comes from the pragmatist. "Do we destroy the law by following the way of faith?" (Rom. 3:31) The concern here is motivation. "If I'm not saved by my works, then why work? If I'm not saved by the law, then why keep the law? If I'm not saved by what I do, then why do anything?" You've got to admit, grace is a little risky. There’s a chance that people will take it to an extreme. There’s the possibility that people will abuse God's goodness. A word about that Sears card might be helpful here. I have a simple rule about credit cards: own as few as possible, and pay them off as soon as you can. I don’t like paying interest to a bank; I get so little from them in return, anyway. So, if it’s at all possible, I try to pay the balance in full at the end of each month.

So, you can imagine my children’s surprise when my wife and I put a credit card in their hand the day they left for college. Standing in the driveway with the car packed and farewells said, we handed it to them. Our only instructions were, "Be careful how you use it." Pretty risky, don't you think? And as they were driving away to college, it probably occurred to them that they were now free. They could go anywhere they wanted. They had wheels and a tank of gas, their clothes, money in their pocket and a stereo in the trunk. And, most of all, they had a credit card. The shackles were off. They could have been in Mexico before nightfall. So, what was to keep them from going wild? That’s the question of the pragmatist. What’s to keep us from going wild? If worshiping doesn't save me, why worship? If giving doesn't save me, then why give? If my morality doesn't save me, then watch out. Jude warns of this attitude when he speaks of people who "abuse his grace as an opportunity for immorality." (Jude 4) Later, Paul will counter his critics with the question, "So do you think we should continue sinning so that God will give us even more grace? No!" (Rom. 6:1-2) Or as one translator writes, "What a ghastly thought!"

A ghastly thought, indeed. Grace promoting evil? Mercy endorsing sin? What a horrible idea. The apostle uses the strongest Greek idiom possible to repudiate the idea: Me genoito. The phrase literally means, "may it never be!" As he has already said, God's "kindness is meant to lead you to repentance." (Rom. 2:4) Someone who sees grace as permission to sin has missed grace entirely. Mercy understood is holiness desired. "[Jesus] gave himself for us so he might pay the price to free us from all evil and to make us pure people who belong only to him – people who are always wanting to do good deeds." (Titus 2:14) Note that last phrase: "people who are always wanting to do good deeds." Grace fosters an eagerness for good. Grace doesn't spawn a desire to sin. If one has truly embraced God's gift, he will not mock it. In fact, if a person uses God's mercy as a liberty to sin, you wonder whether that person ever knew God's mercy at all.

When we gave the kids their credit card, we didn't attach a list of rules and regulations. There was no contract for them to sign or rules to read. We didn't make them place their hand on the Bible and pledge to reimburse us for any expenses. In fact, we didn't ask for any repayment at all. And, as things turned out, they went a few weeks into the semester without ever using it. Why? Because we gave them more than a card – we gave them our trust. And where they might break our rules, they weren’t about to abuse our trust. God's trust makes us eager to do right. That’s the genius of grace. The law can show us where we do wrong, but it can't make us eager to do what’s right. Grace can. Or as Paul answers, "Faith causes us to be what the law truly wants." (Rom. 3:31)

The second objection to grace comes from those who are cautious of anything new. "Don't give me any of this new-fangled teaching. Just give me the law. If it was good enough for Abraham, it’s good enough for me." "All right, let me tell you about the faith of your father, Abraham," Paul answers. "If Abraham was made right by the things he did, he had a reason to brag. But this is not God's view, because the Scripture says, 'Abraham believed God, and God accepted Abraham's faith, and that faith made him right with God.'" (Rom. 4:2-3) These words must have stunned the Jews because Paul points to Abraham as a prototype of grace, not works. The Jews upheld Abraham as a man who was blessed because of his obedience. Not the case, argues Paul. The first book in the Bible says that Abraham "believed the LORD, and he credited it to him as righteousness." (Gen. 15:6) It was his faith, not his works that made him right with God.

Five times in six verses Paul uses the word credit. The term is common in financing. To credit an account is to make a deposit. If I credit your account, then I either increase your balance or lower your debt. Wouldn't it be nice if someone credited your credit card account? All month long you rrack-rrack up the bills, dreading the day the statement comes in the mail. Then, when it comes, you leave it on your desk for a few days, not wanting to see how much you owe. Finally, you force yourself to open the envelope. With one eye closed and the other open, you peek at the number. What you read causes the other eye to pop open. "A zero balance?" There must be a mistake. So you call the bank that issued the card. "Yes," the representative explains, "your account is paid in full. A person who wishes to remain anonymous sent us a check to cover your debt." You can't believe your ears. "How do you know their check is good?" "Oh, there’s no doubt. Your benefactor has been paying off people's debts for years."

Jesus would love to do the same. And he can. He has no personal debt at all. And, what's more, he’s been doing it for years. For proof, Paul reaches into the two-thousand-year-old file marked "Abram of Ur" and pulls out a statement. The statement has its share of charges. Abram was far from perfect. There were times when he trusted the Egyptians before he trusted God. He even lied, telling Pharaoh that his wife was his sister. But Abram made one decision that changed his eternal life: "He trusted God to set him right instead of trying to be right on his own." (Rom. 4:3) Here’s a man justified by faith before his circumcision (v. 10), before the law (v. 13), before Moses and the Ten Commandments. Here’s a man justified by faith before the cross. The sin-covering blood of Calvary extends as far into the past as it does into the future.

We must not see grace as a provision made after the law had failed. Grace was offered before the law was revealed. Indeed, grace was offered before man was created. "You were bought, not with something that ruins like gold or silver, but with the precious blood of Christ, who was like a pure and perfect lamb. Christ was chosen before the world was made, but he was shown to the world in these last times for your sake." (1 Pet. 1:18-20) But why would God offer grace before we needed it? Good question.

God doesn't want us to sin. But he knows us. "He made their hearts and understands everything they do." (Ps. 33:15) "He knows how we were made." (Ps. 103:14) And he knew that we would someday need his grace. Grace is nothing new. God's mercy predates Paul and his readers, predates David and Abraham; it even predates creation. God's grace is older than your sin, and greater than your sin. Sound too good to be true?

That's the third objection. Just as there was a pragmatist who said grace is too risky, and a traditionalist who said grace is too new, there was likely a skeptic who said, "That’s too good to be true." This is by far the most common objection to grace. Questions of a young man who spent two university years saying yes to the flesh and no to God. A young woman who wonders if God could forgive an abortion she had a decade ago. A father who’s just realized he'd devoted his life to work and neglected his kids. All are wondering if they've overextended their credit line with God. They aren't alone. The vast majority of people simply state, "God may give grace to you, but not to me. You see, I've charted the waters of failure. I've pushed the envelope too many times. I'm not your typical sinner. I'm guilty of ___________________." And they fill in the blank. How would you fill in yours?

Is there a chapter in your biography that condemns you? A valley of your heart too deep for the firstborn Son to reach? If you think there’s no hope, then Paul has a person he wants you to meet. Our barren past reminds the apostle of Sarah's barren womb. God had promised Sarah and Abram a child. In fact, the name Abram meant "exalted father." God even changed Abram's name to Abraham, “Father of many.” But still no son. Forty years passed before the promise was honored. Don't you think the conversation became dreadfully routine for Abraham? "What’s your name?" "Abraham." "Oh, 'father of many'! What a great title. Tell me, how many sons do you have?" Abraham would sigh and answer, "None." God had promised a child, but Abraham had no son.

He left his home for an unknown land, but no son was born. He overcame famine, but still had no son. His nephew Lot came and went, but still no son. He would have encounters with angels and Melchizedek but still be without an heir. By now Abraham was ninety-nine, and Sarah wasn’t much younger. She knitted and he played solitaire, and both chuckled at the thought of bouncing a boy on their bony knees. He lost his hair, she lost her teeth, and neither spent a lot of time lusting for the other. But somehow they never lost hope. Occasionally, he'd think of God's promise and give her a wink, and she'd give him a smile and think, “Well, God did promise us a child, didn't he?” When everything was hopeless, Abraham believed anyway, deciding to live not on the basis of what he saw he couldn't do, but on what God said he would do.

Abraham didn't focus on his impotence and say, "It's hopeless. This hundred-year-old body could never have a child." Nor did he survey Sarah's decades of infertility and give up. He didn't tiptoe around God's promise cautiously asking skeptical questions. He plunged into the promise and came up strong, ready for God. That's why it’s said, "Abraham was declared fit before God by trusting God to set him right." (Rom. 4:18-21) Everything was gone. No youth. No vigor. No strength. The get-up-and-go had got up and gone. All old Abe and Sarah had was a social-security check and a promise from heaven. But Abraham decided to trust the promise rather than focus on the problems. And, as a result, the Medicare couple was the first to bring a crib into the nursing home.

Do we have much more than Abraham and Sarah? Not really. There's not a one of us who hasn't rrack-rracked up more bills than we could ever pay. But there's not a one of us who has to remain in debt. The same God who gave a child to Abraham has promised grace to us, too. So, what's more incredible, Sarah telling Abraham that he was a daddy, or God calling you and me righteous? Both are absurd. Both are too good to be true. But both are from God.

Grace,

Randy

Insurance

Insurance - Audio/Visual

Insurance

But now God has shown us a way to be made right with him without keeping the requirements of the law, as was promised in the writings of Moses and the prophets long ago. We are made right with God by placing our faith in Jesus Christ. And this is true for everyone who believes, no matter who we are. For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard. (Romans 3:21-23)

I'm glad the letter I received a few years ago wasn't sent from heaven. It came from my homeowner’s insurance company, uh … my former homeowner’s insurance company. I didn't drop them; they dropped me. Not because I didn't pay my premiums; I did. Not because I failed to do some kind of paperwork; every document was signed and delivered. I was dropped because I live in an area that’s prone to catching on fire. Big fires.

The letter began by politely informing me that my policy had been under review, and that they had historical data of my area dating back to at least 2000 when homes in my community, and elsewhere, went up in flames. Twice. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I do live in an area that’s prone to go up in smoke in October. In fact, that’s the reason why I have insurance in the first place. Wasn't the whole insurance business invented for people like me? Don't occasional natural disasters put food on some insurance adjuster's table? If not for the potential of a fiery apocalypse, what would the actuaries actually actuate?

My initial thought when I got the letter was that the company was writing to congratulate me on being such a good customer. But the letter continued. Their records indicated that in 2003 they had paid a claim to power wash my house because my neutral-colored castle had gone grey from the soot of the fires that year. It was $350.00. Total. I even cleaned out the swimming pool myself to save them an additional claim. Don't I get some credit for saving them money? Apparently not. So, in conclusion, the insurance company said that in view of this information, they were unwilling to renew my homeowner’s policy, and that my policy would terminate at 12:01 a.m., Pacific Standard Time, 90 days later. It concluded: “We’re sorry our decision could not have been more favorable. For your protection, we urge you to obtain other insurance to prevent any lapse in coverage.” Thanks.

So let me see if I get this right. I bought insurance to protect my house from natural disasters – like a fire. But then I get dropped for living where fires occur. Did I miss something? Did I miss a footnote? Did I skip some fine print in the contract? Did I overlook a paragraph that said something like, "We, the aforementioned insurance company, will consider your property an insurable risk until such time as you need insurance for said risk, at which time your coverage will terminate”? Isn't that like a dentist hanging a sign in the window, "No cavities, please"? Or a teacher penalizing you for asking too many questions? Isn't that like qualifying for a loan by proving you don't need one? What if the fire department said it would protect you until you had a fire? What if a bodyguard said he'd protect you unless someone was stalking you? Or a lifeguard said she'd watch over you unless you started to drown? What if heaven had limitations to its coverage?

What if you got a letter from Pearly Gate Mutual that read: “Dear Mrs. Smith, we’re writing in response to this morning's request for forgiveness. We’re sorry to inform you that you’ve reached your sin quota. Our records indicate that, since accepting our services, you’ve erred seven times in the area of greed, and your prayer life is substandard compared to others of like age and circumstance. A further review of our records also reveals that your understanding of doctrine is in the lower 20^th percentile, and you have a disproportionate tendency to gossip. Because of your sins you are a high-risk candidate for heaven. Unfortunately, grace has its limits. Accordingly, Jesus sends his regrets, but kindest regards, and hopes that you will find help elsewhere to prevent an unfortunate lapse in coverage in the event of a claim.” Many fear receiving a letter like that. Some worry they already have. If an insurance company won’t cover natural disasters, can I expect God to cover my intentional rebellion?

Paul answers that question with what John Stott calls the most startling statement in Romans. "God makes even evil people right in his sight." (Rom. 4:5) Wow. It's one thing to make good people right, but those who are evil? We can expect God to justify the decent, but the dirty? Surely coverage is provided for the homeowner with the spotless record, but the careless? The arsonist? The high-risk customer? How in the world can justification come for the evil? It can't. It can't come from the world. It must come from heaven. Man has no way, but “God has a way . . . .”

Up until this point in Paul's letter, all efforts at salvation have been from earth upward. Man has inflated his balloon with his own hot air and can’t even leave the atmosphere. Our pleas of ignorance are inexcusable. (Rom. 1:20) Our comparisons with others are impermissible. (2:1) Our religious merits are unacceptable. (2:29) The conclusion is unavoidable: self-salvation simply doesn’t work. Man has no way to save himself. But Paul announces that “God has a way.” Where man fails, God excels. Salvation comes from heaven downward, not earth upward. "A new day from heaven will dawn upon us." (Luke 1:78) "Every good action and every perfect gift is from God." (James 1:17) Salvation is God-given, God-driven, God-empowered, and God-originated. The gift is not from man to God, but from God to man. "It is not our love for God; it is God's love for us in sending his Son to be the way to take away our sins." (1 John 4:10)

Grace is created by God and given to man. "Sky above, make victory fall like rain; clouds, pour down victory. Let the earth receive it, and let salvation grow, and let victory grow with it. I, the LORD, have created it." (Isa. 45:8) On this point alone, Christianity is unique from any other religion in the world. No other system, ideology or religion proclaims a free forgiveness and a new life to those who have done nothing to deserve it, but deserve judgment instead.

As far as the way of salvation is concerned, there are only two religions the world has ever known – the religion of divine accomplishment, which is biblical Christianity, and the religion of human achievement, which includes every other religion, regardless of its name. Every other approach to God is a bartering system; if I do this, God will do that. I'm either saved by works (what I do), emotions (what I experience), or knowledge (what I know). By contrast, there’s not a whiff of negotiation in Christianity. Man is not the negotiator because man has no grounds from which to negotiate.

Those closest to God have understood this. Those nearest to him have never boasted about their deeds; in fact, they were disgusted by the thought of self-salvation. They describe legalism in repulsive terms. Paul equated our religious credentials with the pile of stink you avoid in the cow pasture – “I count them but dung." (Phil. 3:8) We can summarize the first 3½ chapters of Romans with three words: we have failed. We’ve tried to swim the Atlantic but can’t get past the beach. We’ve attempted to scale the Everest of salvation, but we haven’t even left base camp, much less attempted to ascend the slope. The quest is simply too great. We don't need more supplies or muscle or technique; we need a helicopter. The good news is that the helicopter has arrived. "God has a way to make people right with him." (Rom. 3:21) How important that we embrace that truth.

God's highest dream is not to make us rich, not to make us successful or popular or famous. God's dream is to make us right with him. So, how does God do that? Go back to the insurance company story. Was the company unjust in canceling me as a customer? No. Oh, I might think their decision was distasteful, unenjoyable, even discouraging, or discriminatory or arbitrary. But I can’t call it unfair. The company only did what it said it would do. So did our Father. He told Adam, "If you ever eat fruit from that tree, you will die." (Gen. 2:17) No fine print there. No hidden agenda to obfuscate the truth. No loophole or technicality. God hasn’t played games with us. He’s been fair. Since Eden, the wages of sin have always been death. (Rom. 6:23) Just as I have no defense before the insurance company, I have no defense before God. My record accuses me. My past convicts me.

Now, suppose the founder and CEO of the insurance company wanted to have mercy on me. Suppose, for some reason, he wanted to keep me as a customer. What can he do? Can't he just close his eyes and pretend I don’t live in a community that’s just one Santa Ana away from disaster? Why doesn't he just take the statistics and tear them up. Two reasons. First, the integrity of the company would be compromised. He would have to relax the standards of the organization, something he could not, and should not do. The company can’t abandon its precepts and still maintain its integrity. Second, the mistakes of the other insureds would be encouraged. If there’s no price for living in the next disaster waiting to happen, why should I care? If the president will dismiss my choices, then what's to keep me or anyone else from living anywhere we want and expect to get insurance? Is that the aim of the president? Is that the goal of his mercy? Lowered standards and risky insureds? No. The president is faced with this dilemma: “How can I be merciful and fair at the same time? How can I offer grace without endorsing mistaken judgment?” Or, put in biblical terms, how can God punish the sin and love the sinner?

Paul answers that question. "The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness." (Rom. 1:18) Is God going to lower his standard so we can be forgiven? Is God going to look away and pretend I've never sinned? Would we want a God who altered the rules and made exceptions? I don’t think so. We want a God who "does not change like . . . shifting shadows" (James 1:17), and who "judges all people in the same way." (Rom. 2:11) Besides, to ignore my sin is to endorse my sin. If my sin has no price, then sin on. If my sin brings no pain, then keep on sinning. In fact, "We should do evil so that good will come." (Rom. 3:8) Is this the aim of God? To compromise his holiness and enable our evil? Of course not. Then what is he to do? How can he be just and love the sinner? How can he be loving and punish the sin? How can he satisfy his standard and forgive my mistakes? Is there any way God could honor the integrity of heaven without turning his back on me? Holiness demands that sin be punished. Mercy compels that the sinner be loved. How can God do both?

Let’s go back to my former insurance company executive. Imagine him inviting me into his office and saying, “Randy, I’ve found a way to deal with your insurance problem. I can't overlook your choice of geography; to do so would be unjust. I can't pretend you didn't choose to live in a risky neighborhood; to do so would be a lie. But here’s what I can do. We’ve found a homeowner in our records with a spotless past. Lives in a concrete jungle. Is surrounded by fire hydrants and two fire stations. He’s volunteered to trade records with you. We will take your name and put it on his record. We will take his name and put it on yours. We will punish him for what you did. You, who chose the wrong locale, will be made right. He, who did right, will be made wrong." My response? "You've got to be kidding! Who’d do that for me? Who is that guy?" To which the president answers, "That guy would be me."

Now, if you're waiting for an insurance executive to say that, don't hold your breath. He won't. He can't. Even if he wanted to he couldn't. He has no perfect record. But if you're wanting God to say those words, you can breathe a sigh of relief. He has. He can. For "God was in Christ, making peace between the world and himself. . . . Christ had no sin, but God made him become sin so that in Christ we could become right with God." (2 Cor. 5:19, 21) The perfect record of Jesus was given to you, and your imperfect record was given to Christ. Jesus was "not guilty, but he suffered for those who are guilty to bring you to God." (1 Peter 3:18) As a result, God's holiness is honored and his children are forgiven. By his perfect life Jesus fulfilled the commands of the law. By his death he satisfied the demands of sin. Jesus suffered not like a sinner, but as a sinner. Why else would he cry, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?" (Matt. 27:46)

Ponder for a moment the achievement of God. He doesn't condone our sin, nor does he compromise his standard. He doesn't ignore our rebellion, nor does he relax his demands. Rather than dismiss our sin, he assumes our sin and, incredibly, sentences himself. God's holiness is honored. Our sin is punished. And we are redeemed. God is still God. The wages of sin are still death. But we are made perfect. That's right, perfect.

"With one sacrifice he made perfect forever those who are being made holy." (Heb. 10:14) God justifies (makes perfect) then sanctifies (makes holy). God does what we cannot do so we can be what we can’t even imagine – perfect before God. He justly justifies the unjust. And what did he do with your poor choice of geography? "He canceled the debt, which listed all the rules we failed to follow. He took away that record with its rules and nailed it to the cross." (Col. 2:14). And what should be your response? Go one last time to my former insurance company example.

So, I return to my insurance agent and ask him to pull up my file. He does and stares at the computer in utter disbelief. "Randy, you have a perfect record. Your choices and record are spotless." My response? If I'm dishonest and ungrateful, I will deepen my voice and cross my arms and say, "You’re right, Bob. It's not easy to be me." But if I'm honest and grateful, I’ll simply smile and say, "I don't deserve that compliment. In fact, I don't deserve that record. It was, and is, an unspeakable gift of grace."

By the way, I have a new homeowner’s insurance company. Have for a few years now. They charge me a little more since I was bumped by a competitor. And who knows? I may get a few more letters before it's all over. But my eternal soul is heavenly underwritten, and Jesus isn't known for arbitrarily declining coverage. He’s known, however, for paying premiums, and I'm paid up for life. I'm in good hands with … Jesus.

Grace,

Randy