If Jesus were here in the flesh, instead of me, he could step down off this platform, and walk among you, and put his hand on your shoulder, and look you in the eye, and say, “You, follow me, and I will make you a missionary. You, follow me, and I will make you a missionary. You, follow me, and I will make you a missionary.” He could be that specific.

This is what he did with the twelve apostles when he was here in the flesh. There were many faithful followers of Jesus in his lifetime who were not apostles. They were devoted lovers of Jesus. They were ready and willing to leave everything if he asked them to. But he didn’t ask everybody. Most of them stayed in their jobs. Like Zacchaeus, or the centurion. Most of the people that Jesus saved went on their way rejoicing, with their sins forgiven, ready to make much of Jesus in every sphere of their lives.

But the Twelve, he looked them in the eye and said, “You, follow me. You will be fishers of men in an unusual, focused, vocational way. You will be my global emissaries. That will be your life. You will be the first shock wave of my ambassadors to all the nations of the world.” If he were here physically, that’s what he could do at this conference.

Miracle of Making a Missionary

But he’s not here — not in the flesh. Oh, he’s here. Just not visibly. So how does he do it? How does he touch individual persons so that from that moment on they are devoted to lifelong missionary service? Because, be assured, he does still do this. He has been doing it for two thousand years. And he has been doing it the last two days. He will do it tonight. And he will do it in the days to come.

He will do it as you sing. He will do it on your way home. He will do it as you lie in the hospital after an accident. He will do it as you come to your senses after a mindless-drunken spree, or an almost lethal overdose. He will do it in the silent hours of the night. He will do it at the end of the R-rated, sex-saturated movie when you feel dirty and empty. He will do it after you speak cruelly to your best friend and then step outside into the warm sunlight and feel the breeze of God’s mercy on your undeserving face.

How does that happen? We do not know. It is a great mystery. A hundred people read the same Bible, love the same Savior with the same passion, have similar gifts, hear the same message, sing the same songs, and 75 are profoundly moved to live their lives more radically for the fame of Jesus where they are. But five people in that hundred will never be the same again. Something takes hold of them — some precious truth about God, some gripping reality about the lostness of people, some heaven-like joy of seeing dead people live forever, some sense of strategic usefulness in a global purpose, some vision of multi-colored, multi-ethnic bands of happy worshipers.

Something takes hold of you. And never lets you go. To the end of your life you say with Paul, “I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God” (Acts 20:24). The inexplicable miracle happens. A missionary is created. For fifty years I have seen it happen over and over. A shoe salesman, a financial planner, a counselor, a building contractor, a student. And then, inexplicably, a missionary for 40 years.

Jesus is still doing this. And I mention it to heighten your expectancy and to focus and intensify your prayers. Jesus said to us, “Pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest” (Matthew 9:38). He will not perform this miracle of the missionary calling on most of you. For most of us, there will be engagements of equipping, and supporting, and sending, and rejoicing every time we see this glorious thing happen — an ordinary person becoming a lifelong missionary. Amazing.

My prayer is that God will use this message for such a miracle.

Why and How of Mission

My assignment is 1 Corinthians 9. I’m going to read the entire chapter and then talk about (1) Paul’s motivation in his mission and (2) his method in his mission.

Am I not free? Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord? Are not you my workmanship in the Lord? If to others I am not an apostle, at least I am to you, for you are the seal of my apostleship in the Lord.

This is my defense to those who would examine me. Do we not have the right to eat and drink? Do we not have the right to take along a believing wife, as do the other apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas? Or is it only Barnabas and I who have no right to refrain from working for a living? Who serves as a soldier at his own expense? Who plants a vineyard without eating any of its fruit? Or who tends a flock without getting some of the milk?

Do I say these things on human authority? Does not the Law say the same? For it is written in the Law of Moses, “You shall not muzzle an ox when it treads out the grain.” Is it for oxen that God is concerned? Does he not certainly speak for our sake? It was written for our sake, because the plowman should plow in hope and the thresher thresh in hope of sharing in the crop. If we have sown spiritual things among you, is it too much if we reap material things from you? If others share this rightful claim on you, do not we even more?

Nevertheless, we have not made use of this right, but we endure anything rather than put an obstacle in the way of the gospel of Christ. Do you not know that those who are employed in the temple service get their food from the temple, and those who serve at the altar share in the sacrificial offerings? In the same way, the Lord commanded that those who proclaim the gospel should get their living by the gospel.

But I have made no use of any of these rights, nor am I writing these things to secure any such provision. For I would rather die than have anyone deprive me of my ground for boasting. For if I preach the gospel, that gives me no ground for boasting. For necessity is laid upon me. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel! For if I do this of my own will, I have a reward, but if not of my own will, I am still entrusted with a stewardship. What then is my reward? That in my preaching I may present the gospel free of charge, so as not to make full use of my right in the gospel.

For though I am free from all, I have made myself a servant to all, that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though not being myself under the law) that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (not being outside the law of God but under the law of Christ) that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share with them in its blessings.

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified. (1 Corinthians 9:1–27)

What Motivates Mission?

Let’s start with the puzzling paragraph in verses 15–18. In verses 1–14, the point is this: I have a right to be paid for preaching the gospel. Verse 7: “Who serves as a soldier at his own expense?” But then in verse 15, he explains why he doesn’t demand his rights, and he reveals part of the motivation of his mission.

But I have made no use of any of these rights, nor am I writing these things to secure any such provision. For I would rather die than have anyone deprive me of my ground for boasting. For if I preach the gospel, that gives me no ground for boasting. For necessity is laid upon me. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel! (1 Corinthians 9:15–16)

In other words, “On the Damascus road when I was converted, I met the King of the universe. He conscripted me like a soldier into the army. He bought me like a slave in his household. He gave me an assignment and told me how much I would suffer.” And woe to any soldier who goes AWOL with such a commander. And woe to any slave who tries to escape from such a master. Conscripted soldiers and slaves don’t boast about doing what they have to do.

Motivated by Reward

Therefore, Paul says, I will not settle for serving my commander and my owner in that way. I will have a boast. I will have a reward. What is it? Verses 17–18:

For if I do this [ministry] of my own will [willingly, gladly], I have a reward, but if not of my own will [if I act begrudgingly, slavishly], I am still entrusted with a stewardship. [Like it or not, I have to do it.] What then is my reward? That in my preaching I may present the gospel free of charge, so as not to make full use of my right in the gospel.

In other words, I could be motivated by the desire for money — I ought to be paid! Or I could be motivated by the desire to get my rights. And he says “No!” to both of those. I will not be motivated by the desire for money. I will not be motivated by the desire to throw my weight around and demand my rights. I will present the gospel free of charge. This is my boast. This is my reward.

“Paul’s motivation is to do his mission in a way that magnifies the all-satisfying worth of Christ.”

By the grace of God, I will be the kind of person who does not find his reward in the pleasures of money and does not find his reward in the pleasures of rights-demanding power. I will find my reward in presenting the gospel in such a way that it will be plain that the fruit of gospel ministry itself is my satisfaction. I will commend the gospel — I will magnify the worth of the gospel, the worth of Christ — by showing that the satisfaction it gives — that he gives — does not need to be supplemented by the pleasures of money or the pleasures of power.

So, Paul’s motivation is to do his mission in a way that magnifies the all-satisfying worth of Christ and his gospel, apart from the pleasures of money and the pleasures of power.

People Are the Reward

Now, let’s press into this motivation further, because Paul invites us in. What, more specifically, is the gain for Paul of this “reward” of presenting the gospel without charge (1 Corinthians 9:18)? In verses 19–23, he answers over and over, “I gain people. I gain fellow lovers of Christ. I gain my doubled joy, my glory, my crown of boasting” (cf. Philippians 4:1; 1 Thessalonians 2:19).

Paul has turned away from serving in order to gain money and from serving in order to gain power. Now, according to verse 19 (in the middle of the verse), he has become the servant of all in order to gain people.

Verse 19 (at the end): “that I might win more of them.”
Verse 20 (at the beginning): “in order to win Jews.”
Verse 20 (at the end): “that I might win those under the law.”
Verse 21 (at the end): “that I might win those outside the law.”
Verse 22 (at the beginning): “that I might win the weak.”

That word — “win” — is ambiguous in English. You can win a prize. Or you can win an argument. If you win a prize, you gain it. If you win an argument, you defeat someone. What kind of “win” does Paul have in mind? There is no doubt. He is speaking of gaining people as a prize, not defeating them as an opponent. This is crystal clear in the original language. Because the word translated “win” (kerdainō) means “gain.”

As in Matthew 16:26, “What will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?” Or Philippians 3:8, “For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.” That’s the word. His aim is to gain the Jews, and gain the Gentiles, and gain the weak.

He’s not trying to gain the pleasure of money. He’s not trying to gain the power of rights. The gospel has already assured him that he will gain the fullness of the enjoyment of Christ. And now, he wants to gain people.

He Enjoys Their Joy

What does it mean to gain people? Verse 23 gives the answer: “I do it all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share with them [all those gained people] in its blessings.” His aim is to gain more and more people so that he can “share with them in blessings of the gospel.” Notice carefully the wording. He does not say, “So that they can share with me in the blessings of the gospel.” I’m sure that’s true. He wants them to share with him in the blessings of the gospel. But that’s not what he says because the note he’s striking here is his reward, his gain, in this mission.

So what he says is (last part of verse 23) “that I may share with them in the blessings of the gospel.” I want to gain people — all kinds of people — so that I can be a sharer with them in the blessings of the gospel — that I might enjoy their enjoyment of Christ.

“Our gospel joy is authentic and satisfying only if we desire to taste this joy in the hearts of other people.”

What does this imply about the nature of joy in gospel blessings — blessings like the forgiveness of sins, the declaration of righteousness in the court of heaven, the removal of all condemnation, reconciliation with God, adoption into his family, fellowship with Christ, the hope of eternal life? What does it imply about the nature of our joy in such blessings?

It implies this: our gospel joy is authentic and satisfying only if we desire to taste this joy in the hearts of other people. I want to gain people. I want to gain people — all kinds of people — in order that I might share in their experience of gospel joy. Do you?

‘That I Might Save Some’

Did you notice where I stopped in my listing of those five kinds of people he wanted to gain — what I left out? I stopped in the middle of verse 22. Pick it up there with me: “I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some.” He switches from “win some” (or “gain some”) to “save some.” Paul said in Romans 5:9, “Since we are now justified by Christ’s blood, much more shall we be saved from the wrath of God.” And in 1 Thessalonians 1:10 he says, “Jesus delivers us [saves us] from the wrath to come.” Being saved, in Paul’s language, is first and foundationally being rescued from the wrath of God. By Christ’s taking our condemnation, God rescued us from God.

Then, Paul says in 1 Corinthians 9:23, “I want to share with them in gospel blessings” — that gospel blessing. I want to be there when they walk out of the courtroom of condemnation and do handsprings down the sidewalk, and they leap for joy and shout, “I’m not going to be executed. I’m not going to be condemned. I’m not going to be punished.” I want to be there when it lands on them that they are not only saved from hell, but are adopted as God’s very own children and will inherit the world. I want to gain people for this: I want to share in their experience of this joy.

That’s Paul’s motivation for his mission, which is interwoven with his motivation. Not the pleasures of money. Not the power of rights. But the pleasures of blood-bought joy, especially as he tastes it welling up in the hearts of other people gained from every tribe and language and nation.

What Was His Method?

We turn now to Paul’s method in his mission. We could sum it up with that last half of verse 22: “I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some” (1 Corinthians 9:22). Or, as he says it in verse 19, “I have made myself a servant to all, that I might win more of them.” Then, he begins to flesh it out in verse 20: “To the Jews I became a Jew, in order to win Jews.” Verse 21, “To those outside the law [Gentiles] I became as one outside the law.” And so on.

We could talk for hours about how this is worked out in practice — becoming all things to all people that we might save some. But given the constraints on this message, I’m going to cut through to what I think is the single most important reality behind Paul’s missionary method in 1 Corinthians 9.

Radically New Identity

The clue is in verse 20: “To the Jews I became a Jew, in order to win Jews.” I think Don Carson is exactly right to point out that Paul was a Jew. He did not have to become a Jew in order to win Jews. Or did he? What does this imply that Paul, who calls himself a Hebrew of Hebrews in Philippians 3:5, says that he becomes a Hebrew, becomes a Jew, to gain Jews?

What it implies is this: when a person becomes a Christian, that person’s deepest and truest identity is no longer the identity of his family, or tribe, or ethnicity, or race, or political party, or nation. Why? Because of what happens by faith when you are united with Christ at conversion.

Listen to what has happened to you if you are a Christian:

You have been born again (1 Peter 1:3).
You are a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17).
You have died and been raised with Christ, and your life is hidden with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3–4).
You are seated with him in the heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6).
God has transferred you to the kingdom of his beloved Son (Colossians 1:13).
You are members of the household of God (Ephesians 2:19).
Your citizenship is in heaven (Philippians 3:21).

In other words, the Jewish man, Paul, was so profoundly and pervasively redefined — given a new identity — by union with Christ Jesus, that Jewishness was not his truest, deepest identity anymore and, therefore, in order to win Jews, he had to become a Jew. When you become a Christian, your family roots, your tribal connections, your ethnicity and race, your nation of origin — all of them become secondary, at most. And the real you is something supernaturally new, different. A new creation. A new family identity in Christ. A new citizenship in his kingdom. Every other identity and allegiance is relativized.

Adapting to a New Culture

The implications of this for method in missions are profound. When you become a missionary, and cross a culture, and learn a language, you do not go as an emissary of your nation of origin, you go as an emissary of the kingdom of Christ. Your aim is not to create cultural enclaves replicating your earthly home. Your aim is to establish outposts of the kingdom of heaven.

Yes, this is complicated by the fact that Paul really was ethnically a Jew. And you — every one of you — is embedded in a cultural and ethnic identity. But as a Christian you are both embedded in human culture and transcending human culture. The gospel came to you in culturally familiar dress and began reidentifying you as an alien and a sojourner in your own culture. Christians are always embedded in human culture and always at odds with human culture — even our own.

“When we cross a culture in missions, we find ourselves adapting to culture and challenging culture.”

So, when we cross a culture in missions, we find ourselves adapting to culture and challenging culture. Always. Everywhere. We are never at home in any fallen human culture, because our citizenship is in heaven. Yet we are always at home, because our Father owns the world. We will inherit all of it. As missionaries we leave as aliens; we arrive as aliens. Yet we leave what belongs to our Father. We go to what belongs to our Father. You found ways to be Christian in your home culture as an alien, and you will find ways to be Christian in your new culture as an alien.

God will guide you by the Spirit of your true heavenly homeland, and by the law of Christ, so that your cultural adaptations do not involve sin and do not distort truth.

Miracle of a Missionary Calling

And so I end: if you find your deepest identity in Christ, and your decisive citizenship in his kingdom, and if you know yourself to be an alien and a sojourner wherever you live, and if you pursue your joy not in the pleasures of money or the power of rights, but in tasting gospel blessings in the joy of others as you gain them as eternal friends in Christ, then you will be useful to your own people and a very likely candidate for the inexplicable miracle of the missionary calling.

It begins as a low, steady hum before twisting to urgent whispers, growing louder, tugging for more attention: Go ahead, buy just one more item; slip into one more coffee shop; numb yourself on social media. You deserve to be happy.

So you go for it: tossing a few more pretty pillows into your Target cart, purchasing yet another latte, indulging in a greedy gaze of that glamorous Instagram account. Or you pack for a beach vacation, hoping it will revive your spirits and usher in the winds of peace — only to find yourself tired, beaten down, and spiritually parched. A stale barrenness remains lodged in the crevices of your soul.

Especially in seasons of sadness, loneliness, and stress, it’s tempting to turn to fleeting pleasures for comfort, isn’t it? I remember a time when life seemed crushing, and I was desperate for something to comfort me.

God, in his kindness, gave me the solution: a Bible-saturated life.

Lost at Home

Our family had moved 1,100 miles across the country, with four young children, and I was lost, treading in deep, swirling waters. Everything important to me as a woman felt unfamiliar: our neighborhood, our home, the grocery store, the pediatrician’s office, the church. Even after the boxes were unpacked, I remained unsettled.

Our 4-month-old daughter stopped sleeping with any measure of consistency, our 2-year-old son continually asked when we were going “home,” and our 6- and 8-year-old boys tiptoed into our bed during the pitch of night, craving security in the midst of upheaval.

While my husband went to work each day, I remained at home: comforting my children, filling sippy cups, homeschooling, and completing circular, unending chores.

I appeared calm and ordered, but inside I was crumbling. Exhaustion, loneliness, and hidden waves of sadness engulfed me. I pushed it down, prayed haphazardly, opened my Bible randomly, and told myself that God understood. A verse here or there would have to suffice in shoring up my soul.

It was a horribly broken system. And it was failing.

Surprising Comfort

Then, one ordinary Friday, I packed up our children and journeyed to the library. My fingers traveled the book spines, desperately seeking something, and then paused on a book called The Pleasures of God.

I brought the book home, and during the children’s rest time began reading. Later, in the hush of night, after the dishwasher was emptied and the crumbs swept, I curled up on the sofa and read more. It did not take long: my brittle soul was watered as I was pulled back to the Bible — reading, rereading, and cross-referencing, awakened to truths that had always rested within arm’s reach. How could I have missed this?

Simple. I had not spent consistent time before the Lord (1 Samuel 12:24), with a quiet heart (Psalm 37:7), an open Bible (Psalm 119:18), and prayer (Isaiah 59:2).

As I began to unearth what makes God happy, reading verse by verse, chapter by chapter, Old Testament to New Testament, it was as if I had new eyes, seeing the magnificence of God through a kaleidoscope of unspeakable beauty. A new passion ignited within me: feast on Scripture every day, for all of life.

Reviving the Tired Soul

I can hear someone respond, “Just read more of the Bible and life will improve?” Perhaps you are doubtful.

Remember this: the Bible is not merely a book. As Hebrews 4:12 tells us, “The word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”

Bible reading has become my treasure hunt as I grab hold of Hebrews 4:12, expecting that God will speak to me through every passage: convicting, teaching, and encouraging. Day by day, he awakens me to who he is and what he desires. Day by day, he brings his comfort to parts of my soul out of reach from every other.

“When we open God’s word, he speaks, moving and shifting our souls. To treasure the Bible is to fully live.”

When we open God’s word, he speaks, moving and shifting our souls. To treasure the Bible is to fully live. How tragic, then, to shelve your Bible until Sunday morning rolls around — or to settle for only a verse here or there.

Just this morning I delighted in the reminder of Psalm 19:7–11:

The law of the Lord is perfect,     reviving the soul;the testimony of the Lord is sure,     making wise the simple;the precepts of the Lord are right,     rejoicing the heart;the commandment of the Lord is pure,     enlightening the eyes;the fear of the Lord is clean,     enduring forever;the rules of the Lord are true,     and righteous altogether.More to be desired are they than gold,     even much fine gold;sweeter also than honey     and drippings of the honeycomb.Moreover by them is your servant warned;     in keeping them there is great reward.

Do our tired souls need reviving? Do our sad hearts need rejoicing? Do our dim eyes need enlightening? We will find it all in God’s word. No wonder David describes Scripture as more precious than gold and sweeter than honey. More precious, too, than any pillow we could buy — and sweeter than any latte.

Gifts, Not Substitutes

As women, we naturally crave beauty, relationships, and rest. These desires are not wrong: we are made in the image of God — a God who authored beauty in his creation, made us for relationships, and ordained us for Sabbath rest. God himself designed the physical, the touchable, the earthly. Beautifying our homes, longing for deep friendships, and retreating to relax with family are good gifts from a good God.

But when these longings become disordered, sneaking in and claiming preeminence, our lives begin to implode. Our desperate reaching is a sign that our soul isn’t well, a cue that our footsteps are on dead-end paths. Only God can satisfy our souls. When he is first, other pleasures fall into their fitting places. Do we enjoy them? Yes. But they no longer govern us. Our unchanging God does, through our yielding to his word.

“When troubles and uncertainties erupt, and they will, remember that there is no substitute for the Bible.”

Tend to your own soul by quieting your heart, opening your Bible, and listening. There are no shortcuts. Do whatever necessary: rising early, canceling subscriptions, saying no to the temporal. And when troubles and uncertainties erupt, and they will, remember that there is no substitute for the Bible. Seek comfort and instruction in God’s word, and listen to him speak.

Open Bible, Quiet Heart

Elisabeth Elliot famously said, “The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances” (Keep a Quiet Heart, 20).

My circumstances did not change for the better after our move all of those years ago: I was still in the same unsettled situation, and life was lonely. For four years, I remained rootless, at least from a worldly perspective. My husband’s ministry kept us traveling on Sunday mornings, so I did not have a singular church home and flourishing friendships. The busyness of raising and homeschooling four young children was a work I loved, yet it was a heavy burden to carry without a support group of mothers nearby. My closest friends and family were a thousand miles away. Although I became acquainted with a few neighbors on a surface level, deep and godly friendships during that time were absent.

Yet there was a holy purpose hidden in that season, one that I see clearly now, as God lovingly pried earthly comforts from my grasp, turning my lonely heart directly back to himself through immersion in his word. I learned to abide in the Bible and trust him.

My children are grown now, and life looks different. But one thing has not changed: my soul’s need for Bible-saturated living. This is a lifelong pursuit, not a one-and-done conquering.

Recently, that old familiar feeling crept back, tugging as fresh trials unfolded. I began to neglect communion with God, choosing to curl inward. Feeling spiritually parched and a little sad, I thought, What do I need? More time for me? More time to serve myself? A vacation? More understanding? A friend who “gets it?”

Nope. Just an open Bible, the life-giving Spirit, a quiet heart, and prayer.

Good Monday morning, and thank you for listening today. We begin the week with a really sharp and robust question from a listener named Arnaldo. Here it is: “Hello, Tony and Pastor John. Thank you for your labors on this podcast! My question is one that I have struggled with for over two decades now. It’s this: How can I live with a good conscience? The apostle Paul often talks about the conscience, and how specifically a ‘good conscience’ is something he always lived with, apparently even before he became a Christian (Acts 23:1; 24:16). We also see that a ‘good conscience’ is a qualification for Christian leaders (1 Timothy 3:9). And having a ‘good conscience’ is an important goal of the Christian life for all believers (1 Timothy 1:5, 19).

“When I read the way Paul uses the word conscience in these contexts, it seems like he’s saying it means to be ‘presently walking in obedience to everything God has revealed to him.’ He does not seem to mean that he’s trusting in Christ’s blood to cover over his indwelling sin. I believe in both the doctrine of indwelling sin and of progressive sanctification (according to texts like Proverbs 4:18 and Romans 7:21–23). God is always revealing to me new areas, and sometimes old areas, where I need to grow in holiness. These are very real sin issues that I can’t simply stop doing, like turning off a light switch. These are ones in which I am engaged in a long-term, ongoing struggle and fight. So I pray daily for forgiveness (according to 1 John 1:8–10 and Matthew 6:12).

“All this means that I literally never have a good conscience — I am always aware of important ways in which I presently need to repent and become more holy. So if a good conscience is a basic Christian issue, and Paul always had one, yet I will always know of sin areas in my life — and if I have to pray daily for forgiveness — how could I, or any Christian for that matter, ever attain to a good conscience?”

Well, Arnaldo has done his homework. He laid out texts in that question, as I hear it, that contain all the pieces. I’ve got a few to add that might take a little turn. Wow, he’s not winging it here in asking that question. If there’s a solution, and I do believe there is, it’s probably found inside those texts that he was just commenting on, but maybe drawing some inferences from them that were not necessarily accurate.

Sin That Dwells Within

I feel the force of the question. Experientially, walking in a good conscience is not easy for me since I share Arnaldo’s deep awareness of my ongoing, indwelling sin. That’s Paul’s term in Romans 7:17, 20, 23. We all have remaining corruption and indwelling sin. The more keenly you are aware of that, the more you will feel embattled at the level of needing a good conscience.

“The whole New Testament does assume that in this life, nobody attains sinless perfection.”

I get it. I mean, I think that’s a serious question. The whole New Testament does assume that in this life, nobody attains sinless perfection. We need to just settle that. That’s one of the premises. Nobody attains sinless perfection in this life.

Jesus said that we would pray, “Forgive us our debts” right after, “Give us this day our daily bread” (Matthew 6:11–12). They go together. Every day, say both of those. Paul said, “Not that I have already attained [perfection], but I press on to make it my own” (Philippians 3:12). He referred to the sin that dwells in him and cried out in dismay, “Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:24). Jesus pointed to the publican who said, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” over against the Pharisee who was thanking God that he had such a clear conscience — and he said that the one who cried out for mercy about his sin went down to his house justified (Luke 18:10–14). It was good for him to own his sinfulness, not to say, “Oh, it doesn’t exist. I’ve got a clear conscience. I don’t have any sin to repent of.” We feel the force.

Now, I think 1 John 1 is not only especially illuminating but gives us a category alongside good conscience that may provide the solution.

Walking in the Light

Here’s my reading of 1 John 1, starting with verses 6 and 7.

If we say we have fellowship with God while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.

Now, that is staggeringly amazing. “If we walk in the light . . . the blood of Jesus . . . cleanses us.” Wow. Here’s 1 John 1:8: “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” Now he’s reeling it back in and saying, “Don’t assume that when I say, ‘Walk in the light,’ I mean sinlessness.” First John 1:9–10 says, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.”

Now, what’s amazing about this passage is that it says we must be walking in the light for the blood of Jesus to cleanse us from our sins. Then he says that this walking in the light doesn’t mean sinlessness. We are liars if we say it does. Then he explains that when we walk in the light, we see clearly enough — we have light — to know sin, to see sin as what it is and hate it and confess it. Then we enjoy ongoing cleansing and forgiveness.

“A good conscience is virtually the same as walking in the light.”

Here’s what I would draw from this if I use the category of conscience to explain this passage: a good conscience is virtually the same as walking in the light. Christians should be able to say, “I’m walking in the light,” and mean it, and mean by that, “I’m walking in a good conscience.” Which means I don’t think we should equate having a bad conscience with having indwelling sin. Now, that may be the most important thing I say, Tony. Let me say it again. I’m inferring, from what I’ve said from 1 John 1, that having a bad conscience is not the same as having indwelling sin. They’re not the same.

Our Clear Conscience

That’s my basic answer to Arnaldo’s question. He feels that as long as he is aware of the reality of indwelling sin, as in Romans 7, he cannot have a good conscience. Now, if that were true, I don’t think Paul could ever have a good conscience, but he clearly says he does have a good conscience.

“I thank God whom I serve, as did my ancestors, with a clear conscience” (2 Timothy 1:3). He expects the elders of the church to do the same: “They must hold the mystery of the faith with a clear conscience” (1 Timothy 3:9). That’s the goal for all Christians. According to 1 Timothy 1:5, “The aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith.” I don’t think we should equate a good conscience with sinless perfection in this life, nor equate a bad conscience with the presence of indwelling sin or remaining corruption. Rather, a clear or a good conscience is like walking in the light.

If we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. If we say we have no sin [in other words, if we interpret “walking in the light” as “sinless perfection”], we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:7–9)

David’s Example

I think both Paul and John inherited this concept of ongoing, indwelling sin that nevertheless coexists with a good conscience from the Psalms in the Old Testament.

For example, in Psalm 25, David confesses three times that he’s a sinner. “[God] instructs sinners in the way” (verse 8); “Pardon my guilt, for it is great” (verse 11); “Forgive all my sins” (verse 18). The psalm comes to an end in verse 21 like this: “May integrity and uprightness preserve me, for I wait for you.”

In David’s mind — now, he’s writing under God’s inspiration, and this is not the only place in the Psalms; there are a lot of psalms that distinguish the righteous and the wicked. The righteous are really righteous: they’re walking in the light; they have a good conscience. In David’s mind, there is an integrity and an uprightness that is aware of indwelling corruption that breaks out at times in sins. It does. And that ongoing reality of indwelling sin does not nullify what David calls his integrity and his uprightness.

I think Paul and John saw that. They were immersed in the Old Testament and used language that way. John used the language of walking in the light though we are imperfect. Paul used the language of walking in a good conscience though we are imperfect. I think for all of them (David, Paul, John), the key that enabled them to think this way is that they all knew God had made a way for all their sins to be passed over — namely, the blood of the Lamb, Jesus Christ. David knew this was coming, and Paul and John knew it had come.

I do think Arnaldo is right to say that justification by faith is not the same as walking in a good conscience, or walking in the light, or having integrity. Those are real character traits, not imputed righteousness. Nevertheless, it’s the covering of all their sins by the blood of Jesus that enables them to look upon their conscience and walking and integrity with thankfulness and confidence that it really will be accepted by God as good, though imperfect.

People of Integrity

Here’s one last implication. People might think, “Well, how does this matter?” Here’s a concrete illustration of how it matters. Suppose a pastor is accused falsely of being unfaithful to his wife. The reason he’s accused is because someone in the congregation hates him and wants him to be dismissed. When he comes before the church or the elders to state the truth, with his children present and his wife looking on, that is not the time for him to say to the church, “Well, yes, I am a sinner like everybody else. I’m no better than adulterers. Everyone has indwelling sin that crops out from time to time. I shouldn’t be put on a pedestal. I’m no better than anyone else.”

No, no, no. That is not the time to say that with your kids listening, and your wife listening, and the whole church wondering. What you need to say at that moment is this: “My conscience is clear. I am a man of integrity. I have walked in the light. I have never touched that woman or any woman sexually besides my wife. This accusation is not true.”

I think that is one of the implications of what Paul is saying when he says to the elders and to the rest of us that we should walk in a good conscience — or as John would say, walk in the light.