The starting point, the fountain for loving others is a love for God, initiated by His love for us and poured into our hearts by His Spirit. We cannot conclude that we love God, if we do not love those made in His image and, particularly here, those called God’s beloved, our fellow believers. 

We love Him because He first loved us (1 John 4:19, NKJV).
In our natural state we are dead in sin and in rebellion against our Creator. In quoting from the Psalms, Paul describes everyone dead in sin as not seeking God, not doing good, and not fearing God. In other words, we are not only alienated from God; we are antagonistic to Him. Paul goes so far as to say that in our fallen condition we are “haters of God” (Rom. 1:30). In his writings, John depicts it as a clash between light and darkness.
That might surprise us. Isn’t our land filled with religious expression and Christian denominations? Sure, there are those who militantly deny God or revile Him. But they are just a noisy fringe. How can churchgoers be God haters?
It has to do with our inclination to idolatry. We make God in our image, fashioning Him as we want Him to be. We bring Him to serve us, rather than the reverse. We become a law unto ourselves. As haters of God, we are easily disposed to hate others in our chauvinistic self-righteousness, self-service, and self-glory.
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Written by H.B. Charles Jr. |
Monday, December 11, 2023
Some celebrated preachers dare to say that Jesus was wrong when he declared, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). You don’t have to believe this divine claim. However, you cannot claim to follow Jesus and call him a liar. It is one thing to neglect the Great Commission. It is another thing to cancel it by deeming it unnecessary. What will your legacy be? That question has nothing to do with size, numbers, or prominence. It has everything to do with your fidelity to biblical authority, sound doctrine, and gospel truth.

Waking up after a long Sunday nap, I surfed channels and landed on Carlton Pearson’s broadcast. He was a younger preacher than many on TV. His church was jampacked, mega-sized, and racially diverse. A traditional black preacher, Pearson even “whooped” – backed by a Hammond organ. This set of ministry dynamics is rare now. Imagine how alien it was thirty years ago. 
I was encouraged by the message I heard that night. Pearson was articulate, joyful, and – from what I could tell – sound. None of the subsequent messages I heard raised any red flags. For the record, I was (am) a non-Charismatic Baptist preacher. Pearson was Pentecostal (At this point, I did not know about his connection to Oral Roberts and “Prosperity Theology”). However, Pearson did not preach in a way that would turn off a non-Pentecostal. 
It was not long between hearing Carlton Pearson’s name for the first time and hearing it everywhere. His national TV broadcast grew in popularity. He was consecrated a “bishop.” His Azusa Conference drew tens of thousands – bringing together different ethnicities, denominations, and traditions. His speaker line-up may have been unknown when they stood up, but they were household names soon after they sat down. Pearson’s singing was as good as his preaching, maybe better. His music recordings gave a new generation a love for the old songs of the church, all while giving contemporary Gospel artists a national platform. 
Then, out of nowhere, it all came crashing down. 
After watching a documentary, Pearson’s theological positions radically shifted. He began to preach what he called “The Gospel of Inclusion.” Discerning Christians recognized his doctrinal shift as the old heresy of Universalism wearing makeup and a new dress. A “college of bishops” charged him with heresy. After allowing Pearson to defend himself, the group concluded that he was preaching “another gospel” (Galatians 1:6-10).
Bishop Pearson would soon lose everything he built – his home, church, conference, platform, and associations. 
Unfortunately, we regularly hear about the downfall of high-profile religious personalities. Most of the time, ministers are disqualified for moral failures or financial improprieties. Sometimes, the preacher is ousted after being on the losing end of a church fight. 
Carlton Pearson’s downfall was unique. He was not brought down by money, sex, or power. Members fled his church for doctrinal reasons. Admirers lost respect for him because of his position on eternal punishment. Friends shunned him because he denied the existence of hell.
Hell is the most unpopular subject in the Bible. You would think people would be glad to hear the finished work of Christ meant everyone goes to heaven. But for Pearson to be right would mean the Bible is wrong. That Jesus himself was wrong. It was a bridge too far for even Pearson’s most fervent allies. When men who deny the Trinity, make false prophecies, and teach Word of Faith theology call you a heretic, you’re a heretic!  
Carlton Pearson was given many opportunities to teach and defend his Gospel of Inclusion. During these occasions, he stated his convictions clearly, articulately, and graciously – though not convincingly. Yet those who debated him were often unable to pin him down. He sincerely explained his error better than his detractors explained the truth. 
Over the years, Pearson remained on the outskirts of church life. He was not embraced in orthodox circles. Yet he was not wholly shunned. He was generally received warmly when he popped up, as many Christians remembered what he once meant to them.
Meanwhile, Pearson roamed further away from the biblical and historic Christian faith. He flatly rejected the inspiration and inerrancy of the Bible. He led a Unitarian Church and a New Thought congregation. And he affirmed homosexuality and gay marriage as legitimate Christian lifestyles. 
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I’ve never once regretted resisting a temptation, never once mourned turning away from a sin, never once felt guilty for obeying God’s Word. To the contrary, I’ve felt such satisfaction when temptation has given way to righteousness, when I’ve slammed the door instead of opening it, when I’ve fled the devil instead of welcoming him in. 

There are a few little phrases I think about and repeat to myself on a regular basis. One of the simplest but most frequent is this: You will never regret the sins you do not commit. It’s basic. It’s easy. It’s obvious. But I need to hear it again and again.
Like you, I know that dreadful sick-to-my-stomach feeling that follows a sin, and especially one of those sins I am particularly committed to battling and overcoming. Though I had promised myself that I would never again commit that sin, though I had prayed for the Lord’s help, and though I had addressed the pattern of temptation and attempted to nip it in the bud, still I had caved and blundered into it once again. And I understood: I failed to take hold of the grace the Holy Spirit offered in that very moment of temptation. I sinned only because I chose to sin, only because I wanted to sin, only because sin was more attractive to me in that moment than righteousness.
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