Doctrines of Grace Part 4

Well, in our last study, ours was the melancholy task of assessing the scriptural state and prospects of those sons of Adam and daughters of Eve who God's loving grace encounters in the invitation of the gospel.

And we discovered that as to our spiritual condition, we have become and are by nature morally bankrupt.

Thank you. How kind of you.

Indeed, of a terrible turpitude, inveterate transgressors of God's laws and mortal enemies of his person.

And as to our spiritual prospects of any ability to alter our condition for the good, even through a simple responsiveness to God's gracious gospel overtures.

Look and live. Numbers 21.

Come, everyone who thirsts. Isaiah 55.

Are absolutely nil. Absolutely nil.

We have no more capacity for a spiritual response, let alone overture, than a valley of dry bones.

The image is Ezekiel's from 37, chapter 37.

As to the spiritual realm, the scriptures call us deaf, blind, and dead.

Deaf is an adder to the call of the gospel.

Blind as a bat to our own decrepitude and the beauties of the Savior.

Dead as a doornail to any spiritual motions of the soul.

Such is our perverse and prospectless condition when God's grace meets us.

So the question for us this morning is how God's grace, meeting us thus, masters us out of such an estate.

How does God's all-prevailing, quenchless, deathless love, born in his ancient choice,

prevail to rescue us from out of such a spiritual miry pit, yea, slumbering tomb?

The answer is only by his own almighty unaided arm.

That it is so, and how it is accomplished, are the delightful contemplations of this hour.

So let us first consider the proposition that it is God who accomplishes our salvation,

and that he does so unfailingly.

So first, one that God prevailingly calls his elect.

Let us embark on a brief tour of Scripture's testimony to this great truth,

that it is God who prevailingly draws his elect savingly to himself.

And we've already argued and illustrated at length our utter incapacity to lend a hand to our own rescue,

other than the hand of active opposition.

If we are to be rescued, God must do it and do it all.

But we need not rest on inference,

for direct statements of this truth abound in Scripture.

As the Apostle assures the Corinthians,

no one can say Jesus is Lord,

that is, confess faith in Christ,

except by the Holy Spirit,

1 Corinthians 12.3.

To clarify, Paul is not claiming that none of us can spout those syllables on our own.

Rather, affirm them with conviction of faith.

And we may also take a stab at following religion's rules,

but apart from God's Spirit breathing spiritual life into us,

we remain spiritually dead.

And our rituals and rule following will only confirm the verdict of Scripture that the written code kills.

Only the Spirit gives life.

2 Corinthians 3.6.

This giving of spiritual life by the Spirit,

regeneration,

is so radical,

it is called a new birth.

There is no spiritual life without it,

and only God's Spirit can give it.

As Jesus told Dicadibus,

truly, truly,

I say to you,

unless one is born anew,

they cannot see the kingdom of God.

Do not marvel that I say to you,

you must be born anew of the Spirit.

John 3.

Such are born,

quote,

not of blood,

nor of flesh,

nor of the will of man,

that is,

not through any human means,

but born of God.

John 1.13.

And this was the prophetic hope and promise.

As God promised through Ezekiel,

a new heart I will give you,

and a new spirit I will put within you,

and I will take out the old heart of stone

and give you a heart of flesh.

Ezekiel 36.26.

Did you catch that?

No hope for us

without an organ transplant

by God himself.

No wonder

the apostle calls believers

God's workmanship.

Ephesians 2.10.

And this divine workmanship

of a new heart transplant

is spiritually speaking,

life from the dead.

As the apostle tells the Ephesian believers,

you,

God made alive

when you were dead

through your trespasses and sins.

Ephesians 2.1.

So the divine spirit

is the sole

operative agent

in this life-giving work.

What is the instrument?

I have some, Mom.

I have some.

Thank you.

The instrument

is the divine word

of the gospel.

As Peter asserts

of believers,

you have been born anew

through the living

and abiding word of God.

1 Peter 1.23.

As to this gospel word,

it comes

as an outward call

in the ears of hearers.

But this outward call

has no prevailing efficacy

on its own

against the heart of stone

it encounters

in the hearers.

A hard heart,

writes Jeremiah Burroughs,

gives the rebound

to God's word.

Our hearts

are like

the blacksmith's

anvil,

which can endure

many blows,

or like

the blacksmith's

dog

that lies

under the anvil.

Though the sparks

fly about his ears,

yet he can lie

and sleep securely.

And so,

we may preach the word

with all the fervor

of Savanarola,

yet hard-hearted hearers

will remain

insensate

and unmoved.

The gospel

will have

no more effect

than,

as Spurgeon puts it,

dew upon a rock.

How

fatefully

terrible

is this?

Oh,

how dreadful

are the

shriekings

of men

who have

a stone

in the bladder

or the kidneys,

writes Burroughs.

But,

oh,

to have

a stone

in the heart.

The outer

call of the gospel

would be

hopeless

against those

who have

made their hearts

as an

adamant

stone.

Zechariah 7.12.

Recall

Stephen's hearers.

They cried out

with a loud voice,

stopped their ears,

and rushed

together at him

and stoned him.

Acts 7.57.

Yes,

hearts

are hard

as stone

and they're

as slippery

as fish.

The heart,

writes Spurgeon,

is a fish

that troubles

all gospel

fishermen

to hold.

You may

sometimes

pull it

almost out

of the water,

but slimy

as an eel,

it slippeth

between your fingers,

and you have

not captured

it after all.

So much

for the efficacy

of the outer

call alone.

God adds

to this outer

call,

an inward

call,

which operates

upon the heart

directly.

And as we have

seen,

the operation

is a heart

transplant.

God's spirit

goes in

and opens

the heart

from the inside.

As it was said

of Lydia,

hearing the outer

call in Paul's

preaching the gospel,

quote,

the Lord

opened her heart

to pay attention

to what was said

by Paul.

Acts 16,

14.

This inner

call

is a personal

inward

illumination

or revelation

by God.

Peter received

this inner

revelation

of Jesus'

identity

as Savior.

When the

penny

dropped,

or should we

say denarius

maybe in his

case,

it was God

who dropped

it in his

heart.

Peter's

epiphany,

you are

the Christ,

the Son

of the

living God.

Jesus'

explanation,

blessed

are you,

Simon,

for flesh

and blood

has not

revealed this

to you,

but my

Father who

is in

heaven.

Matthew

16.

And Peter's

case of

divine

inner

illumination

is every

believer's

case.

I thank

you,

Father,

that you

have hidden

these things

from the

wise,

that is,

the inhabitants

of the

rejecting cities

Jesus had

just been

preaching in,

and revealed

them to

little children,

that is,

his disciples.

For such

was your

gracious will.

No one

knows the

Father except

the Son,

and anyone

whom the

Son chooses

to reveal

him.

Matthew

11.

25.

It was

thus his

disciples to

whom,

quote,

it has

been given

to know

the secrets

of the

kingdom.

Blessed

are your

eyes,

Jesus told

them,

for they

see,

and your

ears,

for they

hear.

Matthew

13.

11.

In other

words,

apart from

heaven's

blessing,

they would

be eyes

that could

never see,

or ears

that could

never hear.

The

prayer of

the apostle

that he

offers for

the Ephesians

asked what

would simply

be a

continuation

of what

had transpired

to bring

them to

faith.

The inward

call of

divine

enlightenment.

that,

quote,

God may

give you

the spirit

of wisdom

and of

revelation

in the

knowledge

of him,

having the

eyes of

your heart

enlightened,

that you

may know

the hope

to which

he has

called

you.

Ephesians

1.17.

Apart

from the

spirit's

inward

revelatory

work,

we just

wouldn't

get it

on our

own.

God

the

apostle

testifies

the

natural

person,

that is

without

the

divine

heart

transplant,

does not

accept

the

things

of

the

spirit

of

God,

for

they

are

folly

to

him,

and he's

not able

to understand

them because

they are

spiritually

discerned.

1 Corinthians

2.14.

As John

the Baptist

echoes,

a person

cannot

receive

even

one

thing

unless

it is

given

to

him

by

heaven.

John

3.27.

And what

is given

from heaven

is the

very means

of

reception,

faith,

and repentance.

And the

scriptures make

this abundantly

clear.

As to the

Jews,

Peter testified,

God exalted

Jesus at

his right

hand as

leader and

savior to

give

repentance

to Israel

and forgiveness

of sins.

Acts 5.31.

So also

the Gentiles,

quote,

to the Gentiles

also,

attests Paul,

God has

granted

repentance

that leads

to life.

Acts 11.18.

And so

believers are

described as

those who

through grace

have believed.

Acts 18.27.

So really,

the picture

scripture gives

us of

God's

rescue

is of

a dramatic

divine

intervention,

even a

jailbreak,

if you will,

to break

us out of

our captivity

in the

devil's

penal

colony.

Speaking to

Timothy

concerning those

opposed to

the gospel,

he encourages

him to hope

that,

quote,

God may

perhaps

grant them

repentance,

leading to a

knowledge of

the truth,

and that they

may come to

their senses,

the intervention,

and escape

from the

snare of the

devil after

being captured

by him to

do his

will.

2 Timothy 2.25.

And this

inner calling,

this calling

out,

is an expression

of grace.

And when we

reiterate this

again,

aware that

were it not

so marvelous

a truth,

it would be

monotonous

in its

incessant

repetition

through Scripture.

But let us

hear it again

anyway.

God,

Paul reminds

Timothy,

saved us

and called

us to a

holy calling,

not because

of our works,

but because

of his own

purpose and

grace,

which he gave

us in Christ

Jesus before

the ages

began.

2 Timothy 1.9.

So,

it is God,

by his

spirit,

through the

outer call

of his word,

joined to

an inner

illuminating

call,

which

regenerates

the heart,

from which,

thus renewed,

spring faith

and repentance.

presence.

By this

drawing us

to himself,

God accomplishes

unfailingly.

This inner

call is

all

prevailing.

And again,

given our

inveterate

resistance,

if any

are rescued,

God's

saving action

prevailed,

as it always

does with

his elect.

As Jesus

tells us,

all that

the Father

gives me

will come

to me.

Everyone

who has

heard and

learned from

the Father,

that is that

inner call,

comes to

me.

John 6,

37.

We're

speaking in

a metaphor

that has

always been

cherished by

his people.

I am the

good shepherd.

I know

my own,

and they

know me.

I have

other sheep,

not of this

fold,

that's us.

I must

bring them

also,

and they

will listen

to my

voice.

My sheep

hear my

voice,

I know

them,

and they

follow me.

I give

them eternal

life,

and they

will never

perish,

and no one

will pluck

them out

of my

hand.

My

Father,

who has

given them

to me,

given them

to me,

is greater

than all,

and no

one,

no one,

is able to

pluck them

out of my

Father's

hand.

John 10.

As Thomas

Brooks assures

us,

Christ is

to be

answerable

for all

those that

are given

to him

at the

last day.

And

therefore,

we need

not doubt,

but that he

will certainly

employ all

the power

of his

Godhead

to secure

and save

all those

that he

must be

accountable

for.

Taking in

this scriptural

panorama of

testimony,

little wonder

that God

is called

the God

of all

grace,

1 Peter 5

10.

And Christ's

gospel described

as grace

upon grace.

John 1

16.

Yes,

little wonder

that he

and his

gospel are

so called.

Ah,

but great

wonder

that it

is so.

So we

have seen

that it

is God

who overcomes

our resistance

to his

saving purpose

and that he

does so

infallibly.

let us

now consider

our second

question,

how does

he do

so?

How is

it that

he

prevailingly

draws his

elect?

Well,

we note

in passing,

though it

is the

inner call

that is

decisive,

God does

not dispense

with the

outer call

of the

gospel.

He brings

the message

of Christ

to all

that he

saves.

Because

salvation

exalts

the Son.

And God,

it would

seem,

will save

no one

apart from

their confession

of faith

in Christ.

Jesus is

Lord.

That exalts

the Son.

God the

Father will

not forgo

that means.

God will

direct Philip

into the

desert at

noon to

reach the

Ethiopian.

God will

push Peter

to overcome

ethnic prejudice

to reach

the Gentile

Cornelius.

He will

send his

disciples

to the

uttermost

parts of

the end

of the

earth

to declare

the gospel

and gather

in every

last one

of his

elect.

But the

how of

our attention

is the

how of

the inner

call.

And it

is animated,

our question

is animated,

not by

petulant

curiosity,

but by

a puzzling

concern.

For if

our natural

sinful

wills are,

as we have

seen,

inveterately

and

intransigently

set against

God and

his gospel,

how could

they ever

freely

come to

choose Christ?

Do you see

the paradox

here,

the tension?

does God's

prevailing

drawing

prevail

only by

forcing us

against our

will?

Overpowering

us

in a way

that does

violence

to our

freedom?

No,

not at all.

as Spurgeon

assures,

Christ never

compelled

any man

to come

to him

against his

will.

If a man

be unwilling

to be saved,

Christ does

not save him

against his

will.

Well,

how then

does God

draw us?

As Scotsman

Ralph Erskine

paradoxically put it,

we are saved

with full

consent

against our

will.

Full

consent

against our

wills.

What is

meant is

that a

choice

of Christ

will

always

be against

our

old

unrenewed

will.

But God

by his

spirit,

his

spirit's

work,

renews

our

wills.

Or gives

us a

new

will,

such that

they

freely

choose

Christ

with

full

consent.

As Psalm

110.3

expresses it,

your people

will offer

themselves

freely

on the

day of

your

power.

So we

wrongly

picture this

process of

drawing

as dragging.

Do not

imagine,

writes Spurgeon,

that any

man will

go to

heaven

kicking and

struggling

all the

way against

the hand

that draws

him.

Do not

conceive that

any man

will be

plunged in

the bath

of the

Savior's

blood

while he

is striving

to run

away from

the Savior.

As

Richard

Sibbes

puts it,

the Spirit

does not

force the

soul,

but strongly

persuades

the soul

so that

for all

the world

he would

not be

of any

other

mind.

We might

say the

Spirit's

drawing is

compelling

but not

compulsion.

Compelling

but not

compulsion.

how the

Spirit

secretly

works in

our hidden

inmost

being to

bring us

from

abhorring

to

adoring,

we can

neither see

nor know.

For,

as Deuteronomy

29, 29

tells us,

the secret

things belong

to the

Lord our

God.

It is a

deep

mystery.

but how

in the

visible

apparent

sense

we are

drawn to

Christ,

we can

see and

describe.

Because

the nature

of our

sinful

illusions

and evasions

often come

in a

patterned

weave,

so also

is there

a common

pattern

to the

Spirit's

unweaving

of them.

Many

sinners,

blithely

heedless

of their

sinful

condition

and

alienation

from the

Creator,

naively

imagine

all is

well.

What

trouble

could there

be between

us and

God?

Surely

I'm as

moral as

the next

man,

and I

dare say

likely a

bit better

than many.

If any

have to

worry,

I'm not

among them.

some

would even

put God

in the

dock,

the seat

of the

arraigned.

With the

life God

has given

me and

plenty of

others,

He is

the one

who better

give some

answers and

clear His

name.

This is

often the

self-righteous

condition of

the heart

that the

Holy Spirit

encounters.

And then,

typically the

first work

of the

Spirit is

that of

the conviction

of sinfulness.

The Spirit

pulls back

the concealing

veil,

revealing the

cabinet of

horrors that

is the human

heart.

He rolls

over the

log,

exposing

beneath the

defiling

putrescence and

rotting

corruption of

the heart's

soil.

Before this

jarring

revelation

of our

consuming

cancer,

we stand

aghast.

Suddenly,

we feel

the burden

of sin,

that it

is such

a load

as could

indeed

sink us

to hell.

evil.

This is

often the

first step

of the

Spirit's

saving

drawing.

But it's

only the

first step

in a

longer

journey,

for it

is

characteristic

of our

remember

Spurgeon's

slippery

fish,

it is

characteristic

of our

fallen race

to respond

to this

revelation

with moral

resolution.

I will

reform my

life.

I will

cease to do

evil and

commence to

do good.

And we

set ourselves

to self

improvement

and perhaps

take up

some moral

cause,

march for

world peace,

or even

take up

some religious

devotion or

deprivation.

We pull

up on our

moral bootstraps

determined to

ascend.

But soon

we discover,

very soon,

if we have

any

perceptiveness,

that goodness

or the

righteousness

of God

is not

merely

demanding,

it is

utterly

out of

reach.

And this

realization,

the Holy

Spirit imparts,

implanting in

the awakened,

now demoralized

heart,

the sober

clarity

that we

cannot save

ourselves.

us.

As old

Erskine

rhymes it,

rigid matter

was the

law,

demanding

brick,

denying

straw.

Or good

old John

Barrage,

sometimes

missuscribed to

John Bunyan,

also named

John.

Run,

John,

work,

the law

commands,

but finds

me neither

feet nor

hands.

And so

by the

illumination

of the

Spirit,

the

schooled

heart

confesses,

not the

labors

of my

hands

can

fulfill

thy

laws

demands.

Could

my tears

forever

flow?

Could

my zeal

no

respite?

No.

All for

sin

could not

atone.

Thou

must

save.

and thou

alone.

That was

good

toplity,

as you

well know.

Ah,

but where,

where,

for the

convicted

sinner,

is there

a fountain

open for

cleansing?

Asks

Zechariah

13.

Now

the

Spirit

sets

forth

Christ

as the

sinner's

Savior,

his

death,

as the

sinner's

substitute,

his

righteousness

as the

sinner's

only

robe.

Spurgeon

writes,

echoing

Bunyan's

pilgrim,

then

comes the

Holy Spirit

and shows

the sinner

the cross

of Christ,

gives him

eyes anointed

with heavenly

eye salve,

and says,

look yonder

to the

cross.

That man

died to

save

sinners.

You feel

you are a

sinner.

He died

to save

you.

In this

way,

the Spirit

gently draws

the sinner

to trust

in Christ

alone

for her

salvation.

He brings

the elect

sinner to

see the

necessity,

the reality,

and the

beauty

of the

Savior.

And I

think it

plain to

perceive

that this

is done

compellingly,

yet without

compulsion.

man is

as much

drawn

willingly,

writes

Spurgeon,

as if

he were

not drawn

at all

when he

comes to

Christ

with full

consent,

with as

much

consent

as if

no secret

influence

had ever

been exercised

on his

heart.

Now,

of course,

apart from

this all

prevailing

drawing,

no woman

or man

would ever

come at

all.

but he

prevails.

He prevails.

So we've

outlined a

common pattern

by which the

Spirit draws

the sinner

to Christ.

Now,

we must be

careful here

not to

rigidly

insist that

every sinner

must be

drawn in

this very

path,

a misapprehension

many good

divines have

made.

Jonathan

Edwards'

experience of

being drawn

to Christ,

for example,

differed from

this common

path and

typical Puritan

morphology.

And so

rigidly had

he been

taught to

expect God's

saving dealings

with sinners

to proceed

along these

specific and

precise lines

that he

long doubted

the reality

of his

generation

because it

mismatched

the prescribed

pattern.

pattern.

He expected

to hear

first the

stormy

thunders

of Mount

Sinai

and then

hear in

his heart

the sweet

consoling

whispers

of Calvary.

But in

his case,

he was

struck by

a sense

of the

beauty and

excellence

of the

Savior.

A very

different

pattern in

his case.

So while

the Holy

Spirit's

drawing of

us often

reflects a

pattern,

it is

always

particularized

and personalized

to our

individual

uniqueness.

And just

as with

our sin,

there is

both

commonality

and uniqueness,

all we

like sheep

have gone

astray.

Commonality.

Each one

has gone

our own

way.

Uniqueness.

But just

with our

sin,

both

commonality

and uniqueness,

so with

our salvation.

There is

a common

pattern,

but also

a unique

particularity

to the

Holy Spirit's

drawing.

This

particularization

of the

Spirit's

drawing of

each one

of the

elect

should not

be a

surprise

to us.

Ah,

but it

should always

be a

wonder.

Always a

wonder.

Each son

of Adam

and each

daughter of

Eve

is their

own unique

person.

And the

entrance to

their hearts

has its

singular

lock.

lock, a

lock, the

countless

tumblers of

which have

fallen from

the lathe of

life's unique

experiences,

nurture, and

hammered out

upon their

unique genetic

inheritance,

nature.

Together, an

unfathomably

intricate

creation.

Such is the

heart of each

one of us.

Who indeed

could fathom to

open its

lock?

Who could

possess the

knowledge to

be the

heart

whisperer?

Ah, the

psalmist answers

this question.

Oh, Lord,

you have

searched me

and know

me.

You know

when I sit

down and

when I rise

up, you

discern my

thoughts from

afar.

You search

out my

path and

my lying

down and

are acquainted

with all

of my

ways.

Even

before a

word is

on my

tongue,

behold,

oh, Lord,

you know

it all

together.

Such

knowledge is

too wonderful

for me.

It is

high.

I cannot

attain to

it.

For you

formed by

inward parts.

You knitted

me together

in my

mother's

womb.

My frame

was not

hidden from

you when

I was

made in

secret,

intricately

woven in

the depths

of the

earth.

Your eyes

saw my

unformed

substance.

In your

book were

written,

every one

of them,

the days

that were

formed for

me.

What is

yet?

There was

none of

them.

Psalm

139.

Not only

does our

creator know

our heart,

but he

forms them.

He forms

them.

As the

psalmist

marveled,

God formed

every one

of our

days that

formed

us.

So,

when God

turns our

hearts like

channels of

water in

his hands,

that's not

simply at

some critical

culminating

moment.

That's all

along life's

way,

in every

detail.

So,

of course,

the Spirit

of God

has the

key to

our heart's

lock.

He

intimately

fashioned

the lock.

He is

the architect.

many a

saint has

seen him

pictured in

the words

of Solomon's

song.

My

beloved

put his

hand to

the latch

and my

heart was

thrilled in

me.

Song of

Solomon 5.4.

And each

saint has

had their

own latch,

which,

when the

Spirit opens,

their heart

thrills.

Boniface,

after whom

this church

was once

named,

in the

8th century,

stood and

declared the

gospel among

Germanic

warriors,

claiming that

Christ had

more power

than their

deity Thor,

the god of

thunder and

lightning.

Boniface

cutting down

the mighty

sacred oak

to Thor

in

demonstration

of that

claim.

And when

Thor proved

impotent to

respond with

lightning and

thunder,

their hearts

melted and

they turned

to Christ.

Christ.

But for

other warriors,

it was not

Christ's

strength that

won their

hearts.

It was

his scars.

For they

had known

and been

forever scarred

by the

whore of

the trenches

of World

War I.

As one

of them

expressed,

the other

gods were

strong,

but thou

wast weak.

They

rode,

but thou

didst

stumble to

a throne.

But to

our wounds

only God's

wounds can

speak.

And not

a god has

wounds,

but thou

alone.

Edward

Chilito,

Jesus of

the Scars.

Sometimes

saints are

drawn by

a drawing

or a

painting,

as was the