http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/16005183/do-you-want-to-die-well
September 10, 2021, was a day a father won’t forget. It wasn’t the day our eldest learned to walk. It wasn’t his first day of school (that actually came a few days later). It wasn’t the day he learned to ride a bike (“Dad, let go! Let go! I can do it!”). No, Friday, September 10, 2021, was the first time my son saw death.
And not just any death. This was “Grama Sally,” my wife’s grandmother. During trips to Los Angeles, our son had met Grama Sally, hugged her, talked with her, took pictures with her. He knew her. And yet there she was, lying strangely still — too still to be asleep — in a large, beautiful, wooden box, surrounded by flowers, pictures, and lots of tears. I remember his eyes — tiny vats swirling with confusion, curiosity, and fear. Looking around, he knew he should be sad, but he also didn’t understand enough to know why, which made the whole scene more unsettling. Whether you’re a father or a five-year-old, nothing can fully prepare you for moments like these.
I could write a dozen articles about that day, but for now, isn’t it interesting that my son could live five whole years and not be confronted with death?
Veiling Mortality
I started noticing how strangely absent death seems from everyday life when Ray Ortlund quoted a line about the Victorian era (roughly 1820 to 1914), when people talked more freely about death, but almost never about sex. And now, the opposite is true. The line sent me searching for days when death was a more visible member of society.
Grief in American society today is relatively discrete. We talk about “respecting the family’s privacy.” When someone dies, a group of loved ones put on some nicer clothes, attend a brief viewing, then a short service, and finally a burial, often with a reception afterward. All of this might take place in only half a day.
In the 1800s in Britain, however, people grieved very differently — and far more publicly. Widows, in particular, often wore elaborate gowns long after the funeral (sometimes for a year or even two). An entire fashion industry rose around death. This meant that, on any given day, it wasn’t strange to see someone grieving for all to see. Five-year-olds couldn’t avoid the dark clouds walking in and out of crowds. Their kindergartners were forced to ask questions our kids rarely think to ask.
Given how little time and attention (and fabric) we now give to death, should it surprise us that it blindsides us like it does? As a society tries to suppress and hide the reality of death, it inevitably becomes less prepared for it. I, for one, want to be ready when it comes for me — and it will come for me, and you, and everyone you know, unless Jesus returns first. As I help raise three young lives, one of my great burdens is to prepare them to die well.
Could Death Be Better?
When my own death draws near, I want to face it like the apostle Paul. I want to be as prepared for death as he was, so that I can live as fully as he did before he died. We could go to several passages, but Philippians 1 holds up the grave as boldly and beautifully as any other.
As he writes, he sits in a Roman prison, with no assurances that he’ll ever sit anywhere else again. His friends were afraid. After many scares before, this really could be it. “It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death” (Philippians 1:20). While others would have been consumed by worry, regretting all that would be lost and left undone, Paul embraced the prospect of the end, even a seemingly premature end.
A few verses later, he expresses confidence that God will deliver him from prison (verse 25), but that confidence doesn’t come from his circumstances. Everything he could see issued a different forecast. He knew he might die. And that haunting thought did not disturb him.
To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. (Philippians 1:21)
When you read him, death doesn’t seem like death at all. Hope has somehow drained death of its shadows, of its bleakness. For Paul, death is like the demonized man in Mark 5, who broke through chains, cut himself ruthlessly, and cursed the sky for years — until he met Jesus. Then, people found him “sitting there, clothed and in his right mind” (Mark 5:15). Christ does that to death for all who live in him.
When he surveys what life and death offer him, Paul doesn’t merely tolerate and receive the latter; he prefers it. “Gain.” “Better.” “Reward.” He doesn’t despise his life in Christ on earth — “If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me” (verse 22). But he knew enough to gladly trade all he had now for what comes next.
Better Life by Far
Paul, like the rest of humanity, was born enslaved to the fear of death (Hebrews 2:15). Consciously or unconsciously, we grow up and live under the oppressive, terrifying reality that we will die. And that fear makes people do all manner of sinful and irrational things. Paul wasn’t immune to the dread that terrorizes millions. So what changed his perspective on death? What lens could he possibly put over the grave to see gain?
“Death is only better than life if death means getting closer to Jesus.”
He tells us just two verses later: “My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better” (Philippians 1:23). Death is only better than life if death means living closer to Jesus. And it does for those, like Paul, who trust and follow him. As we step through the grave, “we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). And he will be so stunning, so arresting, so satisfying, that seeing him will change us. “What we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). Death will introduce us to a glory that will not only sweep us off our feet, but swallow and transform us.
One day, I’ll wake up in a better-by-far world, surrounded by better-by-far sights and tastes and opportunities, and I’ll experience it all as a better-by-far me. A better world, because Christ’s reign will be seen and felt in every inch and breath. Better adventures, because we’ll eat and work and travel and laugh and swim and reign with the one who made it all. A better me, because I will have never been more like him. That’s how death loses its sting. That’s how the prospect of losing all can grow to feel like gain.
Living to Die
This perspective doesn’t merely prepare us to die well, though. It also prepares us to live well until we die. And ironically, while dying well will mean living more fully than ever, living well will mean repeatedly dying to ourselves. Paul can say, “I die every day!” (1 Corinthians 15:31). What does he mean?
He tells us in Philippians 1. “If I am to live in the flesh,” verse 22, “that means fruitful labor for me.” And what would that fruitful labor be?
I will remain and continue with you all, for your progress and joy in the faith, so that in me you may have ample cause to glory in Christ Jesus, because of my coming to you again. (Philippians 1:25–26)
“While dying well will mean living more fully than ever, living well will mean repeatedly dying to self.”
Because he was prepared to die, Paul was freed to live, not for himself, but for others’ joy in God. In other words, he was freed to spend his life preparing people to die well, giving them reason after reason to live for Christ and long for heaven. He spent the little time he had on earth (even in prison!) looking for creative and costly ways to win and mature souls for the next world. He knew that dying well on his last day meant dying well every day.
And so if we want to live and die well, we die, as long as we have breath, so that others might finally and fully live in Christ.
-
Why Don’t We Have Good Friends?
How many close friends do you have in your life today? Take a minute and count them. Do you have more or less than you did ten years ago?
One recent study confirms what you might already suspect: many more of us have fewer good friends than we once did. In 1990, just 3% of respondents reported having no close friends. Thirty years later, that number has quadrupled to 12%. In 1990, one third said they had ten or more close friends. That number has now shrunk to just over ten percent. Nearly 90% cannot name a friend for each of their fingers. It’s not the only study to come to the same unsettling conclusion: Despite the tidal wave of new ways to connect and communicate with one another, we’re getting lonelier.
And that loneliness stifles human life. “Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!” (Ecclesiastes 4:9–10). If we try to live and work alone, we’ll stumble and fall alone. And when we fall alone, we won’t have the encouragement, correction, and support we need to get back up and press through our failures, sorrows, and trials.
No matter how many years it’s been, no matter how busy you feel, no matter how few your options are, no matter how much it costs you, you still need good friends — yes, even you.
So why do so many of us have so few of them?
Three Great Walls to Climb
It’s never been easier to make new friends and connect with old ones, so what’s hindering and disrupting these relationships? Drew Hunter, author of Made for Friendship, wisely puts his finger on three major obstacles we face today:
Three aspects of modern culture create unique barriers to deep relationships: busyness, technology, and mobility. . . . These unique barriers can weave together in a very isolating way for us. They encircle us like a rope barrier and keep true friendship out of reach. We may overpower one or two of these strands, but as the saying goes, a cord of three strands is not quickly broken. (30)
What keeps us from meaningful friendships? Busyness, because we fill our schedules so full that friendship feels like a luxury we just can’t afford. Technology, because while it allows for a lot more moments of “connection,” the crumbs it offers leads us to pretend we’re more meaningfully connected than we really are (and leave us starving for more). Mobility, because it’s harder to build real, lasting friendships in places where people are frequently moving away and moving on.
Those three emerging barriers to friendship certainly resonate with my experience over the last thirty years, and accurately explain some of the challenges we face in pursuing friendship in the twenty-first century. So how might followers of Christ overcome the hurdles and find some good friends?
1. Cadence: Live at the pace of friendship.
When did we become too busy for friends? At a cultural level, it’s difficult to trace the many factors (work from home, instant messaging and social media, on-demand delivery and entertainment, explosion of youth activities, and more). At a personal level, the disruption often happens somewhere between college graduation and our first child’s newborn diapers. The adult demands of work and family swiftly swell and crowd out the margin we used to have. The time with friends that used to cost us next to nothing now seems far too expensive.
Rather than assuming friendship is simply a casualty of higher callings, what if we assumed that friendship was still vital to those higher callings? Because it is. “Exhort one another every day, as long as it is called ‘today,’ that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin” (Hebrews 3:13). Of course, if you’re married, your spouse is one valuable voice, but he or she can’t be the only voice. Whether married or single, we need others from outside the home to sing (or shout) reality into our hearts and homes. In other words, we need friends.
“To experience friendship with fellow humans, we need to live at a pace that is human.”
And to experience friendship with fellow humans, we need to live at a pace that is human (which, ironically, may increasingly put us out of step with society). Instead of constantly scrolling by one another, what if we slowed down enough to see and hear and focus on the person in front of us? What if we practiced hospitality, not just with our kitchens and living rooms, but with our time and attention?
How different our lives might be if they were marked by something like the togetherness of the early church:
All who believed were together and had all things in common. . . . And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. (Acts 2:44–47)
Their lives were beautifully full, but not with the tasks, emails, and apps that dominate our days. No, their lives were full with people — with one another. Life was slower in many ways, and yet far more productive for being slow: “And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved” (Acts 2:47).
2. Presence: Find time and space to share.
Technology is not necessarily an enemy of friendship. It can be an unprecedented blessing when employed wisely. Imagine just how much previous generations would have given to be able to talk in real-time, even once, with a far-away loved one (much less actually see them on a screen). The problems emerge when we lean too much on technology — when it becomes a substitute for, rather than supplement to, physical presence. Every human needs food, water, shelter, and regular time with other humans.
The apostle Paul used the technology available in his day to communicate with his brothers and sisters in the faith, but he knew that writing was no replacement for eye contact: “I long to see you, that I may impart to you some spiritual gift to strengthen you — that is, that we may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith, both yours and mine” (Romans 1:11–12). He knew there were graces that ink and paper couldn’t carry. There was a whole class of encouragement reserved for living rooms and dining tables. He knew that something critical and intangible happens when two or more are gathered in the name of Jesus in the same space.
This doesn’t mean friends boycott technology. It does mean we acknowledge the weaknesses and limitations of technology (even the best technology), and love one another accordingly. A good place to start might be to quickly audit your current friendships and ask roughly what percentage of your interactions are physical or digital. The results will vary for people with different personalities in different circumstances and stages of life, but for every stage, circumstance, and temperament there should be some consistent, meaningful presence. It is worth fighting for more regular time to be face to face with at least a few good friends.
3. Permanence: Rediscover the value of staying.
Lastly, perhaps the largest hurdle of the three: mobility. It’s never been easier to pick up and move, which means it’s often much, much harder to find and keep long-term friendships. Just think for a minute about how many of your friendships in just the last two years have been disrupted by some major life change and the accompanying move. We’re the goodbye generation.
The depth of friendships our souls need won’t happen overnight. These gardens of trust require years, maybe decades, of patient attention and tending. So how do we make and keep friends in a day of so many goodbyes? The first thing to say may be hard for many of us to hear: rediscover the value of staying put.
How many people do you know in your circles who would forgo a better-paying, more-satisfying job in a more appealing city for the sake of Christian friendships and community? Building the kind of friendships that really matter and bear fruit requires the kind of sacrifices fewer today are willing to make. In the early church, and for most of history, this kind of permanence was simply a given. Picking up and moving was too costly. Today, permanence is becoming a discipline and a virtue. We might wonder, How many who are uprooting and leaving now will eventually come to realize what they lost and wish they had chosen church and friendships over convenience and job opportunities?
Some friendships, however, will survive moves and time zones, through some serious creativity and persistence, but very few will thrive. A few of my best friends today were once down-the-road friends (or even share-a-bathroom-and-a-kitchen friends), but are now several-states-over friends. We’re not as close as we once were, but we do what we can to stay in touch. The apostle Paul, for one, was a faithful long-distance friend, though it seems he was always planning a visit. He writes to those he knows well, loves more, and yet can’t walk over and see anymore:
“For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:8).
“[Timothy] has brought us the good news of your faith and love and reported that you always remember us kindly and long to see us, as we long to see you” (1 Thessalonians 3:6).
“As I remember your tears, I long to see you, that I may be filled with joy.” (2 Timothy 1:4).“However faithful our faraway friends are, we all need down-the-road friends.”
Long-distance friendships are possible, and can be precious, but they are a little like walking uphill, requiring extra effort with every step (like writing twenty-eight chapters to the church in Corinth). They can’t be our only close friendships. However faithful our faraway friends are, we need down-the-road friends. And hopefully a few of them are down the road for the long haul.
4. Substance: Brave the depths of conversation.
Busyness, technology, mobility — those are three real and developing hurdles to friendship. We should all be aware of them and make some plan for clearing them. As I wrestled with each of them, though, I couldn’t help seeing a fourth major barrier, one that is by no means modern: triviality.
How many of our potential friendships — real, meaningful, durable friendships — have died on the rocks of sports, shows, or headline news? How many conversations began and ended on the paper thin surface of life? How often was God left out completely? The greatest challenge to friendship today may not be our schedules, phones, or moving trucks, but just how easy it is to peacefully float along above the rich depths of real friendship.
Social media can certainly aggravate the issue, but this temptation isn’t new. Satan has always been seducing us into the shallows of superficiality and distracting us from the depths of friendship. So how do we wade deeper? Through courageous, Christ-exalting intentionality: “Let us consider” — really consider — “how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near” (Hebrews 10:24–25).
If we commit to this kind of reflection, this kind of commitment, this kind of encouragement and correction, this kind of love, real friendship will emerge and endure. But we will need to be brave enough to go there, to spend more of our conversations in the deep end.
So, if you find yourself among the overwhelming majority of people without enough good friends, slow down enough to find some, make some regular time to be in the same room, fight harder to stick together longer, and then consistently press through the trivial to the more meaningful and spiritual. Pursue and keep the kinds of friends who stir your heart and life to better know and enjoy Jesus Christ.
-
Sing! Sing! Sing! — To Each Other and the Lord: Ephesians 5:15–21, Part 5
http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/15032237/sing-sing-sing-to-each-other-and-the-lord
-
How Greatly Am I Loved?
Audio Transcript
Happy Wednesday, everyone. For a few weeks, we have been looking at a two-part sermon Pastor John delivered in the spring of 2010. Today’s episode is the final installment of clips from those two messages. Historically, this pair of sermons is interesting because they come in the days leading up to his eight-month leave of absence, time away from the pulpit to work some things out in his own heart and in his family. We’ve talked about this leave, and lessons he took from it, particularly in three episodes of this podcast: APJs 138, 220, and 1227. As you know from those episodes, if you’ve heard them, it was a defining season for him.
The precursor to that leave is these two sermons. And they’re interesting because in them Pastor John explains what makes him tick. Why does he do ministry the way he does? He explained in these sermons, as we saw in APJ 1769. And then we looked at a related theme. God makes much of us. He does. He really does make much of us. So why does God make much of us? That was APJ 1772. Then we looked at how God makes much of us. In six or seven profound ways, God makes much of his children. Pastor John substantiated that claim in APJ 1775, which led to last week’s conundrum. There we looked at whether or not God ruins his love for us by loving us for himself and for his own glory — a key question to answer, and it was answered last Wednesday, in APJ 1778.
Today we finish this little miniseries of sermon clips by looking at how profoundly we are loved by God. Oh, how Pastor John wanted his church to feel the gravity of God’s “great love” to us in Christ, as Paul called it in Ephesians 2:4. And here’s how Pastor John did it in the following clip from his April 25, 2010, sermon, as he leaves for eight months. Here’s he is, expounding 1 Corinthians 1:26–31.
In these six verses of 1 Corinthians 1:26–31, Paul describes at least (it depends on how you divide it up) four ways that God loves us — loves you personally. And by you — let’s get this clear now — I don’t mean everybody. God doesn’t love everybody in the same way. The kinds of love that are described here are for those who have been awakened in their heart to see themselves as desperate sinners in need of a Savior, and Christ crucified has shone for them as their wisdom and their power. And he has become compellingly true, and beautiful, and attractive, and valuable, and you have received him, and he is yours, and you are his. That’s who I’m talking about.
I hope the rest of you who aren’t in that category will be drawn in by this message. I’m sure not everybody in this room is in that category. There’s just too many of you, and there’s lots of people of all different kinds. And so my prayer is that those of you inside will feel massively loved in fresh new ways, and those on the outside would become so jealous and envious that you would be drawn in.
Why God Loves Us This Way
What we have in these six verses is four ways that he loves us and then a double purpose for why he loves us this particular way. So, two things: four ways that he loves us, and a double purpose for why he would love us that way. It’s a how question and a why question. Got it?
How does he love me? Why does he love me this way? The answers to those two questions are here in this text. So let’s take it in reverse order. Let’s go to the purposes first, a double purpose for why he loves us in these four ways.
Eliminate Boasting in Self
The first half of the double purpose is 1 Corinthians 1:29: “so that” — some kind of result or purpose is coming — “no human being might boast in the presence of God.” So the purpose of God in loving us in these ways is so that we will be loved in a way that does not incline us to boast in ourselves in the presence of God. That’s the purpose of loving us this way. So that no human being will put their arms in their suspenders and say, “What a good boy am I?” in the presence of God.
“God will not let you ruin the experience of being loved by God by converting it into an experience of boasting.”
He loves us so much that he will not let us ruin the glorious experience of being loved by turning God’s love into a reason to boast in ourselves. He loves you too much. He will not let you ruin the experience of being loved by God. He won’t let you ruin it by converting it in our fallen way into an experience of boasting in the presence of God in ourselves. He loves you too much. He will not let that happen to you. He will come at you from every side imaginable to kill that in you.
Promote Boasting in God
So that what? The second half of the double purpose is found in verse 31: “so that, as it is written, ‘Let everyone who boasts, boast in the Lord.’” So, you see the contrast: in verse 29, his purpose in loving us this way is so that nobody will boast in the presence of the Lord, and the positive way of saying it in verse 31 is so that the one who boasts, boasts only in the Lord.
We’re going to boast in the presence of the Lord. We’re going to brag on God forever and not on ourselves. We will not boast in our own doing. If we stand in front of a mirror in heaven and like what we see — which I suppose we would if there would be mirrors (I don’t think there would be mirrors in heaven; just an opinion) — if we stood there, we would say, “Praise God.” That’s what we would say.
So, there is the double purpose in the text for the four ways that I’m now going to show you that he loves you. First, so that you won’t boast in yourself in his presence — or, putting it positively, so that you will boast in the Lord. Oh, that this church would be resounding in hallways and small groups and families with boasting in the Lord.
Speak well of the Lord. Say much about the Lord. Talk about his deeds. I just read this morning in my devotions, “You have made me glad by your works” (see Psalm 92:4). And I spent about two minutes, I suppose, just naming them and being glad, sitting on the couch — just being glad in the works of God. Name them; exult; boast in God. Forget about your painful self for a moment; it just might get well.
How God Loves Us
What are the four ways that you are loved in this text? I’ll name them, and then we’ll look at them. Number one, God chose you. He loved you by choosing you. Number two, he called you. Number three, he put you in Christ. Number four, he made Christ your wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. That’s it. Those are the four ways in this text that God loves you. Let’s take them one at a time.
He Chose You
Number one, God loved you by choosing you.
God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are. (1 Corinthians 1:27–28)
Very clear: “God chose.” If you are Christ, he chose you. He leaves some unchosen; he chooses others. If you are in, he chose you.
In fact, if you asked him, “When did that happen?” This word in the Greek for chose is only used one other place outside this text: Ephesians 1:4, which was the text we looked at last week. “God chose us in [Christ] before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him.” Only in that place in Paul does it occur, and therefore, I take it to mean that he chose you, he chose you, he chose you (in verses 27 and 28) — meaning, from eternity.
That’s why, in Romans 11:5, when he uses the noun, not the verb, he calls it the “election of grace,” meaning that when God stood in eternity and contemplated you, he contemplated you as needing saving in Christ. I get that from Ephesians 1:4–7, where we are chosen in Christ. We don’t need to be chosen in Christ if we aren’t sinners. We need to be chosen in Christ if we need righteousness, if we need forgiveness and redemption.
“You are spectacularly blessed for nothing in yourself. This love is absolutely unconditional.”
He contemplated — he saw all of us as unworthy of being chosen. Nobody is wronged if they’re unchosen; you are just spectacularly blessed for nothing in yourself. This love is absolutely unconditional, without any exception. O Holy Spirit. If it doesn’t happen right now, let it happen later tonight or later this week. Sooner or later, come and pour this being loved from eternity.
I don’t know about you, but I was really helped by my sermon last week. I’ve been just sitting around saying, “He chose me in love. He created me in love. He sent Jesus in love. He died for me in love. He keeps me in love. He made much of me by sitting me on his throne. He made much of me.” I’ve just been going all through that, just preaching to myself. I need as much help as anybody. So I’m preaching the same sermon.
He Called You
Number two, God loved you by calling you. So first, he chose you, and now, secondly, God loved you by calling you. First Corinthians 1:26: “Consider your calling, brothers.” That’s what I’m asking you to do right now: just do some considering right now. And the first thing I suppose you’d ask is, “What’s he talking about? My job — a carpenter, nurse, teacher, homemaker?” No, that’s not what he’s talking about.
People of the Call
How do you know that’s not what he’s talking about? Well, mainly I know because of 1 Corinthians 1:22–24. Read this, and consider your calling, brothers and sisters.
For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles [or Greeks; he’s using them interchangeably], but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.
So when the called look at Christ crucified, they don’t see a stumbling block; they don’t see folly. They see power. So there are three groups in those verses: (1) Jews, (2) Gentiles, and (3) called. That’s not quite accurate, is it? Let me say it a little more carefully. There are (1) Jews who are not called, (2) Gentiles who are not called, and (3) Jews and Gentiles who are called. Those are the three groups. Are you with me?
We’re considering our calling. We’re obeying verse 26. There are Jews not called, Gentiles not called, and Jews and Gentiles, some of whom are called. And then he describes the response of each to the cross. To Jews, a stumbling block. “Crucified Messiah? Never heard of such a thing.” To Gentiles, foolishness. “A dying god? Silly. Mythological.” To the called, power. “My God.”
Power of the Call
What kind of call is that? I’ll tell you what kind of call it is: it’s the kind of call that creates what it commands. The call gives light. The call creates sight. The call raises the dead. “Lazarus, come forth.” He didn’t decide to. The call raised him from the dead.
Let me give you an analogy that could be misleading. It helps me, just to get your head around it, because lots of you have never been taught about the call of God — the mighty, effectual, irresistible, powerful, saving, awakening, life-giving call of God that saved you. You’ve never been taught about this. So you need a little analogy to help you. “What is he talking about? I’ve never heard anything like this. I thought I just believed in Jesus.”
Suppose somebody is asleep, and you want to wake them up. What do you do? Well, you bend over — they’re sound asleep — and you say, “Wake up!” And they bolt right up. Now, what are the dynamics of that moment? They were sound asleep and — bang — they were awake. Did they hear the call and say, “I’ll think about that before I wake up, and then I’ll decide if I want to wake up”?
That is a good analogy. When God issues a call to your dead heart and says, “Wake up,” you wake up. You did not make yourself a Christian. Just face it. You didn’t make yourself a Christian, which is why you should feel so incredibly loved. In fact, if you need a text to say that, just go to Ephesians 2:4, where Paul says, just as clearly as can be, “Because of his great love.” It’s the only place he uses that phrase in all of the New Testament. Because of his great love, he made you alive when you were dead.
So, if you have any spiritual life in you at all, you have been greatly loved. It’s called regeneration. It’s called calling. You have been called, and you are greatly loved in this calling.
