An Arminian asks:

“So, you nasty Calvinist, you believe in ‘Limited Atonement.’ When sharing the gospel, not knowing who is elect, you can’t really say ‘Jesus died for you,’ can you?”

Good question. You’re right, I can’t say “Jesus died for you” or “Jesus died for your sins.” While even some Calvinists might consider this picayune, the truth is that if I don’t know who is elect and who isn’t, then I don’t know that Christ died for the individual in question; so I can’t say otherwise. Does that mean I can’t offer them the hope of salvation? Certainly not. I can offer Christ as the propitiation for sins in this way: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners” (1 Timothy 1:15), “like you, and like me.” “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved” (Acts 16:30–31).

Here’s a subject I’ve avoided for a long time, and will continue to avoid hereafter; but when someone with exponentially greater abilities than I possess is given an enormous audience and a golden opportunity to present the gospel, and totally blows it, it grieves me. In fact, it makes me little bit angry.

However, if I was a charismatic pastor used to having thousands adore me, and I was asked a simple question like “if you don’t accept Jesus . . . can you find your way to heaven?”* I hope I’d have a better answer than that Jesus said no, and I’m betting on it. And I certainly wouldn’t go on from there to agree with the Jewish interviewer when he said that he and Jesus shared a common religion. I know exactly what I hope I’d say, and I’m putting it in writing so that, should I ever have an audience of, say, half a dozen eager listeners, I won’t be caught like the proverbial deer in the headlights. I would say something like this:

No, Alan, you can’t. No way. I know that sounds narrow and possibly unloving, but if there is only one road to a certain destination, and I see you on a different road, it’s not very loving of me to wave, wish you well, and go on my way, is it? Especially when Jesus said your road “leads to destruction” (Matthew 7:13–14).

The gospel is completely exclusive. Jesus and the Apostles were very explicit about that. Jesus said he is the only way, and that no one may approach the Father except through him (John 14:6). The Apostle Paul wrote that Jesus is the only mediator between God and man (1 Timothy 2:5).

That is what the Word of God says; that is the truth, and I have no authority to deviate from that truth, even though my cowardly heart might be inclined to soften the message so you’ll like me better. But that doesn’t leave you without hope.

Jesus died for every sinner who believes his Word and trusts in him for his salvation. He is God incarnate; he came to earth in the flesh, and perfectly fulfilled God’s law, the law that we break every day; he took our sins upon himself, and bore the wrath of God that our sin deserves on the cross; he rose from the dead, victorious over sin and death; and he sits now at the right hand of the Father, interceding for those who trust in him.

And the good news, the gospel, is this: by faith in Christ, you can be united with him in his death and resurrection, you can have his perfect righteousness credited to you. You can be seen, in the eyes of God, as perfectly righteous, as though you had never sinned, and worthy to be welcomed into heaven, into the presence of God himself.

Mohammed never offered anyone that, nor did Moses. Only Jesus has died for sinners. Only Jesus has made satisfaction for sin. So I can’t offer you many ways to heaven; but I can offer you one that is guaranteed, free of charge. That way is Jesus. “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved” (Acts 16:23–31).

I think that’s the right answer. I know it is. And you know, I probably don’t have to wait for that big interview to rehearse my answer. There are probably a lot of regular folks in my own world who need to hear it. There probably are in yours, too.

Last week, I watched the movie The Green Mile again. I’m not one to use movies to teach, but in the case of this film I believe there is something that we would do well to take note of and learn. In addition to being a compelling story, The Green Mile presents theology, as most of the world understands it, in stark terms.

For those who have not read the book or seen the movie, The Green Mile is the story of Paul Edgecomb, played by Tom Hanks, the man in charge of Death Row at a state prison during the 1930s. I won’t spoil it by giving the plot, which does not matter for our purposes. I will just share a couple of scenes that are pertinent to my point.

In the first scene, a prisoner, Arlen Bitterbuck, has just had the top of his head shaved in preparation for execution in the electric chair. Edgecomb is sitting with him in his cell, and Bitterbuck asks, “Do you think, if a man sincerely repents on what he done wrong, that he might get to go back to the time that was happiest for him, and live there forever? Could that be what Heaven’s like?” Edgecomb replies, “I just about believe that very thing.”

In the second scene, Edgecomb is faced with executing a man he believes to be innocent. Speaking with his wife, he tells her, “To tell you the truth, Honey, I’ve done some things in my life that I am not proud of. This is the first time I’ve ever felt real danger of Hell.”

Aside from the faulty view of Heaven, there is a fallacy presented in these two scenes that represents the world’s view of damnation: men are damned for committing wicked deeds. If Arlen Bitterbuck had not committed the crime that landed him on death row, his soul would be safe. If Paul Edgecomb can find a way around executing a man he believes is innocent, he will have nothing to fear. Implicitly, these two men were on the road to Heaven until they reached a certain fork in the road. The first took the wrong turn, and is now looking for a way back. The second is at the fork, and has little choice but to take the wrong turn. Both fear that their souls are in jeopardy because of what they have done or are about to do.

Sadly, this is how most of the world, at least those who believe in life after death, see it. But what does Scripture say?

Scripture says we’re not damned for what we have done, but for what we have not done. Regardless of who we are, or what evil we have avoided, we have failed to live up to God’s perfect standard. Lest we think “perfect” is an exaggeration, that maybe our best is good enough, Romans 3:23 assures us, “For all have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God.” All have fallen short. Every one of us has failed. We have fallen short, we have failed to measure up, and not to just any standard that we or any other mortal can set or even conceive. We have failed to measure up to the glory of God.

Before any death row inmate committed his crime, he was in as much need of salvation as after. After he committed his crime, he was no more in danger of Hell than before. The most kind, gentle, generous, moral person is lost and utterly without hope if he is trusting in his own goodness to save him. Both the convicted murderer and the good husband, father, and corrections officer stand on level ground before God, both in need of grace.

In your communications with unbelievers, when the opportunity arises, are you bringing that message? Or do you come across as a moralist? Are you encouraging your wicked acquaintances to change their evil ways, while the righteous whitewashed sepulchres get a pass? Are you assuming the overtly sinful are more in need of salvation than the nice family man who goes to church and coaches Little League? Are you leading the outwardly unrighteous to believe that they need to change their ways to gain God's favor, while lulling the inwardly unrighteous to believe they have it? If so, you are bringing a false gospel.

Are you a good person, doing your best, who imagines that your best is good enough to get you into Heaven? Forget it. God requires absolute perfection. Can you deliver? I can’t. I have sinned. Worse than that, I am sinful. I am sinful to the very core of my being. I can no more change that than a leopard can change his spots. I am by nature a rebel against God, and God's justice requires a penalty. That penalty is death (Romans 6:23).

Well, someone did die. God sent his son, Jesus Christ, to be born a man and live a perfect life so he could be the perfect sacrifice in your place and mine. He bore the full wrath of God against the sin of all who believe in him when he was crucified. He paid the death I owed. He won the victory over sin and death when, three days later, he rose from the dead. And his righteousness, his sinless perfection, is credited to all who trust in him. Clothed in Christ’s righteousness, we can stand before God spotless and without blemish. That righteousness is required of all men, from the Sunday School teacher to the murderer on death row; and it is available to both, without distinction.

This Monday, my wife and I went to the big city (Bismarck ND, population 58,333, 2nd largest city in the state!) to take care of some business and do some shopping. Traveling, which I don’t often do, is one of the few times I listen to the radio. The ride home usually brings some interesting listening.

On this occasion, we were assaulted by a “sermon” that did little more than describe, in graphic detail, the beating and crucifixion of Christ. It was the radio version of The Passion of the Christ (which I have intentionally never seen), I suppose. I would say it was a fairly accurate description, avoiding the exaggeration that often accompanies such things, and containing relatively little of the typical speculation about “what scholars think that might possibly conceivably maybe have meant.” It was pretty much just the gruesome facts of what a Roman crucifixion entailed. Unfortunately, that was all it was, and as such, I think it was pretty useless.

The message of the cross is not primarily about the physical suffering of Christ. His physical suffering is not even the greatest part of what he suffered. The most horrific agony of the cross was not the brutal scourging or the crown of thorns. It was not the nails in his hands and feet. It was not the excruciating pain of hanging from those nails. It was not any of the consequential medical complications that preachers love to expertly describe to spice up the Good Friday sermon.

Christ’s anguish, which began in Gethsemane, was not essentially physical. It was an anguish that can never be communicated through pictures or movies. It was, first and foremost, spiritual. It was the torture of being separated from the Father and bearing my sin that was the essence of his suffering.

And this is the heart of the Gospel. I am not saved because Christ suffered the pain of crucifixion. I am saved because he died bearing my sins. Jesus took the guilt of my sins upon himself and bore the full force of the Father’s holy wrath poured out upon him. He, the only begotten son of God, became the most loathsome creature in the Father’s eyes when my sins were laid on him. The most eloquent preacher cannot adequately describe the horror, so I know I can’t even come close.

As we approach Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday, let us not become focused on the cross as an instrument of torture. Let us focus on Christ as the bearer of sin — my sin, and yours, if you believe in him.

For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. —2 Corinthian 5:21.

Dear fdsfds,

Sometime after midnight on Sunday, February 17th — or 10:00 PM on Saturday where you are in the vicinity of Astoria, Oregon — you ran a Google search for “thirstytheologian.” At 12:43:57, you entered my site, spent 34 minutes and 19 seconds here, and left without commenting. Then you went to another blog and left an obscene and particularly juvenile comment.

I don’t know if you’ll ever come back here. I don’t know why you would, if you really think I “[obscene verb] [direct object].” But you did come intentionally looking for me, so maybe you will.

What were you thinking? That it would bother me that someone out there doesn’t like me? That you used childish, obscene language against me? Am I supposed to be offended? Angry? What?

I’ll tell you what I do feel. I feel sorry that you have not matured beyond playground insults. I feel sorry that you can’t express yourself as an intelligent adult. I feel sorry that you don’t have the courage to address me directly, which you could certainly do. I feel sorry that you are so threatened by something I have written that you feel the need to strike back.

Most of all, though, I am sorry that you don’t know, as I do, the forgiveness of sins that you can have through faith in Jesus Christ. You see, I’m not angry with you, because I was born in the same sinful condition as you. I’ve done and said far worse things than you wrote in your little comment. I deserve the eternal condemnation of God just as you do. But I have no fear of God’s wrath because Christ has taken my sin to the cross and borne it upon himself, and his perfect righteousness has been credited to me — which is good, because I had absolutely nothing to offer for myself, and no hope.

So rather than being angry with you, I pray that God will soften your heart, that you may humble yourself under his mighty hand, and trust in him for your eternal salvation. I pray that you will receive the same mercy and grace that I have. If you’d like to know more about salvation in Jesus Christ, feel free to email me (find the Contact link in the sidebar). I would welcome the opportunity to share my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, with you.

The Lord spoke to me yesterday. This was no new revelation. You’ll find none of that here, as I don’t believe in it. Yet he did speak — not in an audible voice, but no less clearly than if he had.

I was praying for a friend who had a special need. As I was closing that portion of my prayer and my prayer became more personal, I was arrested by an acute sense of my unworthiness. Several Scripture passages came to mind: Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips!1 Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord.2 Who shall ascend into the hill of the LORD? or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart . . .3 I thought, Oh God, who am I, to speak to you? and I could continue no farther. My heart ached. I wanted to pray, but I could not.

That’s when he spoke. He gave me his Word — that is, he prompted my memory of the Word already hidden in my heart — when I needed it, as he has on numerous occasions before. He said, Come boldly unto the throne of grace. So I opened my Bible to Hebrews and thumbed through to chapter four and read:

Seeing then that we have a great high priest, that is passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession. For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need. (Hebrews 4:14–16)

What does this passage tell us? Does it tell us, as many of today’s popular preachers would, that we ought not feel unworthy? No, it does not. The first thing it says is that we have a high priest. Who needs a priest? It is precisely and only those who are unworthy to enter the Father’s presence who need a priest to intercede for them. And we have such a priest. A priest who lived as we live, suffered as we suffer, yet without sin, and made the perfect sacrifice for our sin, and now sits at the right hand of the Father interceding for us. Therefore, we can come boldly, casting all our cares upon him, for he cares for us.4

And when we come before the throne, we will obtain mercy, which we desperately need, for we are guilty; and grace, without which we are utterly helpless.

So come boldly, though your hands are not clean and your heart is not pure. Hold fast to your faith in Christ. Come, confessing your sin and seeking forgiveness. You are truly unworthy, but you have a high priest who intercedes for you. Come, obtain mercy. Receive grace. Come boldly.

For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me. (Psalm 51:3).

It has been a long time since I have written anything. I have been doing a lot of personal reflection, and the result is this: I am a sinner, a condition from which I cannot escape. Augustine wrote, “For too little doth he love Thee, who loves any thing with Thee, which he loveth not for Thee.” I wrote on this some time ago, concluding that “I hate too little anything that I hate not for God’s sake.” This has been weighing heavily on my heart for some time now. As I examine myself, I find in my best attitudes and actions only sin. Truly, “all [my] righteousnesses are as filthy rags.”

I can hardly bear to read the books I love, for in everything I see the glaring contrast between what should be and what is. Even — or, I should say, especially — Scripture is difficult, a knife to my heart.

I know I have been given a new nature, but my flesh still clings to me, and I am so tired of carrying this rotting corps around. It is an unbearable burden, and I long for the day when I will at last be free of it.

Have I been engaging in sinful activities that would shock any of you? No, I have not; but in everything I do, no matter how good and noble, I see me. I cannot perform any good that is devoid of self. I realize that it is right and good to take pleasure in doing good, but I wonder — would I do anything good for God or man if their was no personal pleasure in it? I can’t see that I would. I do good because it, or what results from it, gives me pleasure, or saves me from the unpleasant consequences of not doing it. I avoid sin because of the misery it causes me. Me, me, me! Always me!

O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death? (Romans 7:24).

All I can do is to throw myself at the foot of the cross and cry, “Here I am! Wretched, sinful, filthy, unworthy of love, mercy, and grace!” and take comfort in the fact — and it is surely a fact! — that when God looks upon me, he sees only the perfect righteousness of Christ. He does not see my sin, for it was put to death as Christ was “made to be sin for us.”

I know the day is coming “when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption,” and all that I do will spring from the righteous motives of a pure heart. Oh, for the day when that future hope will become the present reality!

On January 2nd, Cal Thomas wrote this about the execution of Saddam Hussein:

In a final blasphemy, Saddam Hussein, who spent most of his life as a murdering secularist, went to his justified death holding a Koran and offering his soul to God, if God would accept it. If God does, He will have to commute the sentences of Saddam’s mass murdering predecessors, including Hitler, Stalin, Mao and Pol Pot. (italics added)

I have read enough of Thomas’ writing to know that he understands the Gospel better than that, so this is not intended as an attack on Cal Thomas. However, it is way past time to send this horrible cliché to the gallows.

Saddam Hussein is not in Hell today for being a mass-murderer. He has done no more to earn his eternal damnation than I have. Put another way, he deserves to spend eternity in Heaven just as much as I do—which is to say, not at all.

Saddam Hussein, brutal dictator, torturer, and mass-murderer, would be in Hell today even if he had been a benevolent leader of his country. Being a “good man” or a “nice guy” would not have saved him. Only one man has been good enough, and that is Jesus Christ, the son of God. The rest of us—you, me, Saddam Hussein—have failed to measure up to God’s standard, which is no less than perfection. This failure has not taken place over time, as we have made “wrong choices” and sinned against God and our fellow man, either. From the moment of our conception in our mothers’ wombs, we are imperfect (Psalm 51:5). We are sinners, and as sinners, we deserve condemnation and eternal punishment in Hell.

What, then, is to be done? Should we try really hard to do good and earn our place in Heaven? I certainly don’t want to discourage good behavior, but know this: you won’t get to Heaven by being good (Romans 3:20). If Saddam Hussein had been your neighbor, if he had blown the snow out of your driveway, fed your dog while you were on vacation, and bought Girl Scout cookies from your daughter, he would be in Hell today. If he had been a Peace Corpse volunteer who died of a disease contracted in a third-world country, he would be in Hell today. If he had been an American President who went to war to overthrow a murderous tyrant in the Middle East, he would be in Hell today.

John 3:18 tells us, “He who believes in Him is not judged; he who does not believe has been judged already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.” Saddam Hussein is in Hell for one reason only: his faith was not in Jesus Christ. It is that simple. And if your faith is not in Jesus Christ, it won’t matter how nice you are, how many good deeds you’ve done, or how much you’ve donated to charity. It won’t matter how faithfully you’ve attended church. It won’t matter if you’ve sung in the choir or taught Sunday School. It won’t even matter if you have been the pastor. If you believe you are in any way worthy of God’s mercy, if you are trusting in anything but the blood of Jesus Christ to atone for your sin, you are utterly without hope. You are on the road to Hell, just as surely if you were a genocidal dictator.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ is not a message of hope for good people. In the Gospel we do not see the good rewarded and the bad punished. The Biblical Gospel is a message about and for bad people. It is the story of the Son of God who came to do what we could not: live perfectly, without sin (Hebrews 4:15). It is the story of the Lamb of God who came to be what we could not: the perfect sacrifice for sin (Hebrews 9). It is the story of the one true God, who credits the perfect righteousness of his son, Jesus Christ, to all who believe (Romans 4).

Saddam Hussein is in Hell today because he did not believe that, and for no other reason. It does not matter one iota how good I have been. If I do not believe in Jesus Christ, if I am not trusting in his righteousness for my salvation, I am lost and will spend eternity in Hell. If God lets me into Heaven because of my own goodness, then he truly will owe Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot—and Saddam Hussein—an apology.