Sovereign Grace
From Gospel Translations
Sovereign Grace and the Glorious Mystery of Election
He chose us in him before the foundation of the world — Ephesians 1:4
C.J. Mahaney
First Impressions
Author James Cantelon presents this moving and insightful remembrance of his conversion experience:
“First impressions are lasting impressions.” So goes the old saying, and I suspect in most cases it is true. My first impression of God is with me to this day. It happened at a musty old church camp in Central Saskatchewan, Canada. I was five years old.
Back in those days we were into tabernacles. Not only were most of our churches called tabernacles, but our camp meeting buildings were also given this Old Testament name for tent. On one especially hot day my parents were in the adult tabernacle and I, with my fellow junior campers, was in the children’s tabernacle. The teacher was tak- ing us through Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. As she taught, something sparked within me.
After the lesson the children exploded into the sunshine to play. I lingered. Miss Brown seemed to know why.
“Can I help you, Jimmy?” she asked gently. I nodded dumbly, biting my suddenly trembling lower lip, tears welling in my eyes.
“Let’s go into the back room and pray,” she said. I can’t explain what happened....But I will say this: at age five I suddenly felt as though I were the worst sinner who had ever lived. My sense of sin nearly crushed my little heart. The prayer, however, had not ended. It began with remorse, it grew into joy. I felt this newly discovered burden lift from my fragile soul. The presence of God overwhelmed me. Without my looking for him, or asking for him—indeed, without any knowledge of my need of him—God came looking for me, asking for me...a five-year-old kid.[1]
First impressions are indeed lasting impressions. Mr. Cantelon’s description of his conversion experience is revealing: “God came looking for me.” What is your understanding of your conversion experience? Who pursued whom? Did God come looking for you? Or does it seem that, in essence, you were pursuing God? What stands out the most to you: God’s initiative and intervention, or your repentance and faith?
One week-night, when I was sitting in the house of God, I was not thinking much about the preacher’s sermon, for I did not believe it. The thought struck me, How did you come to be a Christian? I sought the Lord. But how did you come to seek the Lord?The truth flashed across my mind in a moment—I should not have ought him unless there had been some previous influence in my mind to make me seek him. I prayed, thought I, but then I asked myself, How came I to pray? I was induced to pray by reading the Scriptures. How came I to read the Scriptures?I did read them, but what led me to do so? Then, in a moment, I saw that God was at the bottom of it all, and that he was the Author of my faith, and so the doctrine of grace opened up to me, and from that doctrine I have not departed to this day, and I desire to make this my constant confession, “I ascribe my change wholly to God.”
—Charles Spurgeon[2]These are not academic questions. The Christian who misunderstands or misinterprets the underlying cause of his or her conversion can be vulnerable to legalism, pride,self-reliance,ingratitude,condemnation,and lack of assurance. But when we rightly understand the nature of our conversion— that is, when we clearly grasp the role of God’s sovereign grace in election—we position ourselves to enjoy, in an ongoing way, the wonderfully life-transforming benefits that are available only through the gospel.
Out of Our Depth
Election, of course, is a doctrine issuing from the deep end of the theological pool. As soon as we encounter it, we must all acknowledge that we are in way over our heads. This is a place of mystery, a place that spawns a hundred questions, all of them variations on a single question: “How do I reconcile divine sovereignty with human responsibility?”
On the topic of theological mystery, I find this quote from J. Rodman Williams most helpful: “Because all Christian doctrines relate to God who is ultimately beyond our comprehension, there will inevitably be some element of mystery, or transcendence, that cannot be reduced to human understanding. Nonetheless, within these limits the theological effort must be carried on.”[3]
Indeed, God has announced the following non-negotiable arrangement: “The secret things belong to the Lord and the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever” (Det 29:29).
As one who loves secrets, my pride does not respond well to such a declaration. So, partly as an aid to my humility, God has allowed me to live near Washington, DC. Here, among the members of the church I am privileged to serve, are a number of people who must be rather secretive about the details of their government-related jobs. Sometimes, when talking with one or another of them, my pride and self-importance rises up, and I begin to crave a little insider access. Why don’t they share some cool stuff with me? Can’t they trust me? Can’t they make an exception for their pastor? To their credit, they never satisfy my prideful craving. Usually they don’t even admit they know any secrets. I can behave the same way with God. I implore him to explain some theological mystery, arrogantly assuming that my brain would not be microwaved by exposure to such divine illumination. But in his goodness, wisdom, and mercy, he doesn’t tell me any secrets, either. How comfortable are you with the secret things of God?...with the difficult to understand?...the paradox?...the apparent contradiction? Are you at peace in the deep end of the pool? In Scripture, God has asserted both divine sovereignty and human responsibility, without seeking to harmonize them completely. But they are certainly harmonized in his infinite wisdom, and that should be enough for us.
John Calvin offers wise counsel on this matter:
The subject of predestination, which in itself is attended by considerable difficulty, is rendered very perplexed, and hence perilous, by human curiosity, which cannot be restrained from wandering into forbidden paths...Those secrets of his will which he has seen fit to manifest, are revealed in his Word—revealed in so far as he knew to be conducive to our interest and welfare....Let it, therefore, be our first princi- ple that to desire any other knowledge of predestination than that which is expounded by the Word of God, is no less infatuated than to walk where there is no path, or to seek light in darkness....The best rule of sobriety is, not only in learning to follow wherever God leads, but also when he makes an end of teaching to cease wishing to be wise.[5]
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