Audio Transcript

Welcome back to the Ask Pastor John podcast. We’re reading the Navigators Bible Reading Plan together. And tomorrow we read Acts 22, a chapter where Paul recounts for us his dramatic conversion experience — his blindingly dramatic conversion experience. In the story, we’re introduced to a devout and godly Christian man named Ananias, who approached the recently blinded Saul (now named Paul) and restored his sight to him, or told him it would be restored soon. Then Ananias told Paul in verse 16, “And now why do you wait? Rise and be baptized and wash away your sins, calling on his name.” Water baptism and sin-washing are connected.

Likewise, we have forty questions in the inbox about Acts 2:38. There in the text, a bunch of seekers have gathered to hear Peter say to them, “Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.” And three thousand people repent and are baptized. An amazing sight — and yet another text that appears to put water baptism in the moment of forgiveness or conversion. So, dozens of listeners have written in to basically ask, based on Acts 2:38 and Acts 22:12–16, this same essential question: Pastor John, are we saved after water baptism, before water baptism, or in water baptism?

I would first answer by making the question more precise. Are we justified before, in, or after baptism? Are we united to Christ, do we become one with Christ and God becomes 100 percent for us, before, in, or after baptism? Because in the New Testament, the word saved is used for what happens before, in, and after baptism:

Ephesians 2:8: “[We] have been saved.”
1 Corinthians 1:18: “[We] are being saved.”
Romans 13:11: “Salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed.”

So, being saved happened before, is happening now, and will happen finally in the future.

The word salvation in the New Testament is broad and includes pieces of salvation. And what’s really being asked is, “When did it all start — the first moment of union with Christ, the moment of justification (which is not a process like sanctification is but decisive)?” “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31). When did that start? At what point does God count us a child — not a child of wrath, which we all are by nature (Ephesians 2:3), but a child of God, so that from that point on, he is 100 percent for us with no wrath? When did that happen? What was the decisive means that brought it about, that united us to Christ, that justified us?

By Faith Apart from Water

Let me give my answer from texts and then show how that point relates to baptism.

Romans 3:28: “We hold that one is justified by faith apart from works of the law.”
Romans 5:1: “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God.”
Romans 4:5: “To the one who does not work but believes in him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness.”
John 3:16: “God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”
Acts 13:38–39: “Through this man forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you, and by him everyone who believes is freed [or justified] from everything from which you could not be [justified] by the law of Moses.”

And on and on and on I could go. I had a bunch of others, and I thought for time’s sake I’d just leave them out.

“Baptism is the outward expression of calling on the name of the Lord in faith.”

So, here’s my inference from those texts (and many others like them): justification — being put right with God by union with Christ in the divine miracle of conversion and new birth — that point is by faith, and faith alone, on our part. God uses faith as the sole instrument of union with Christ and thus counts us righteous and becomes 100 percent for us in the instant that we have faith in Jesus.

That’s my answer. And now the question is, “Okay, how do you talk about baptism? And how do you understand those texts that were quoted that seemed to connect baptism to that act, that beginning?” So, let me give some answers to that.

Sign of Righteousness

The first thing I would say is that the thief on the cross was told by Jesus that that very day he would be with him in paradise. He was not baptized. I know he’s a special case — I don’t think you build a theology of baptism on the thief on the cross. But one thing it says is that baptism is not an absolute necessity, because it wasn’t in his case.

Here’s the second thing I would say. Paul treats baptism as an expression of faith so that the decisive act that unites us to Christ is the faith, and it is expressed outwardly in baptism. Here’s a very key text for me. When I went to Germany, I was a lone Baptist in a den of Lutheran lions. They were loving lions — they just licked me; they didn’t eat me. But they did not approve of what I believed. And I remember taking a retreat with twelve little cubs and one big doctor father named Leonhard Goppelt. And we were talking about baptism the whole weekend. And this was my text; this was my text that I put up. This is Colossians 2:11–12:

In him [in Christ] also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead.

So, the burial with Christ in the water and the rising with Christ out of the water, it seems to me (from that text), are not what unites you to Christ. That is, the going under the water, the coming up out of the water — that’s not what unites you to Christ. It is “through faith” that you are decisively united to Christ.

And here’s an interesting analogy, since circumcision was brought into the picture there, and there’s kind of an image of circumcision in Colossians 2. If you go to Romans 4:11, Paul says,

[Abraham] received the sign of circumcision as a seal of the righteousness that he had by faith while he was still uncircumcised. The purpose was to make him the father of all who believe without being circumcised, so that righteousness would be counted to them as well.

So, if you just take the analogy — and that’s all it is; it’s just an analogy between baptism and circumcision — then this text would say that baptism is a sign of a righteousness that we have before we are baptized, because we have it through faith and through union with Christ.

Calling and Washing

Then we go to the relevant texts in Acts that the questioner raised, like Acts 22:16: “Rise and be baptized and wash away your sins.” Now, if you stopped right there, you’d say, “Well, there it is: the water is the forgiving agent.” But that’s not where you stop. It says, “Rise and be baptized and wash away your sins, calling on his name.” So, the sense (I think) is the same: baptism is the outward expression of calling on the name of the Lord in faith. It’s not the water that effects our justification or union with Christ. The water is a picture of the cleansing, but the faith in the heart, the call on the Lord from faith, is what unites us and forgives us.

And now, that’s the meaning that 1 Peter 3:21 actually picks up on when it says, in relationship to the flood and Noah’s rescue through the ark, through the water, “Baptism, which corresponds to this” — that is, the salvation of Noah’s family in the ark and the flood — “now saves you.” That’s probably the clearest text for those who want to say that baptism is salvific, that it actually does the saving. It says, “Baptism . . . saves you.”

And then immediately, as though he knows he said something almost heretical, because it would so compromise justification by faith, he says, “. . . not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal” — so now we’re back to this call issue: “Wash away your sins, calling on his name” — “as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ.” In other words, it’s the call of faith from the heart, not the water. And he explicitly says, “not [the] removal of dirt from the body.” In other words, “It’s not the actual functioning of the water that does the saving, even though I just said, ‘Baptism saves you.’ What I mean is that this outward act signifies an appeal to God that’s coming from the heart, and it’s that faith that saves.”

“God uses faith as the sole instrument of union with Christ.”

So, when John the Baptist (or Mark) calls his baptism “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (Mark 1:4), it probably means “a baptism signifying repentance, which brings forgiveness.” Because repentance is simply the way of describing the change of mind that gives rise to faith.

‘Repent and Be Baptized’

Now, here’s one last important text they’re raising. In fact, this is where you begin. Acts 2:38: “Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.” So, it looks like this: repent (condition number one), be baptized (condition number two), and forgiveness will be given to you. And I’ve been arguing (because I think so many texts teach it) that, no, repentance and faith as one piece are what obtains forgiveness, not the baptism.

So, what, you disagree with this text, Piper? Who do you think you are? And I think that text should be read something like this (and I remember seeing this years ago and then finding it other places). Suppose, Tony, you want to go from Phoenix to LA on the train, and it’s about to leave, and I say, “Grab your hat and run or you’ll miss the train.” Now, I just gave you two commands like Peter gave two commands: “Repent and be baptized.” But only one of them is a cause of getting to the train on time — namely, running. But I said, “Grab your hat.” Grabbing your hat is an accompanying act, not a causative one. It may be very important. There may be all kinds of reasons why you should have a hat. Why did you tell him to grab a hat? Well, I’ve got my reasons. But grabbing the hat does not help you in the least to get on the train on time.

Now, that’s the way I think we should hear Peter when he says, “Repent and be baptized every one of you, and make the train of forgiveness.” You get on the train of forgiveness if you repent and are baptized. And the repentance, the change of mind that includes faith, gets you to the train. And baptism is important — important for all kinds of reasons — but it’s not causative in the same way that repentance is.

So, here’s my bottom-line answer to the question: Faith precedes baptism (that’s why I’m a Baptist) and is operative in baptism. So, we are justified at the very first act of genuine saving faith in Christ, and then baptism follows (and preferably would follow soon) as an outward expression of that inward reality.

“Don’t go to bed angry.” How many times have you heard some version of this marital proverb? Many bright-eyed couples hear it in premarital counseling and happily nod along in agreement. Those who’ve been married for a while may chuckle at the naivete. We’ll see if they’re still smiling and nodding in a few months.

Once you’re married, the counsel quickly becomes more complicated, uncomfortable, and costly. Sometimes, dealing with anger before bedtime can feel like finishing the basement before bedtime. My wife and I know firsthand, having fought hard over seven years to subdue our anger before exhaustion subdues us. Achieving a cheap, superficial peace may be easy enough, but meaningful reconciliation typically takes meaningful time and energy and, well, work.

The counsel really is good counsel, though, because it’s God’s counsel: “Do not let the sun go down on your anger” (Ephesians 4:26). The command covers all relationships, but marriage may be the hardest place to apply it. For many of us, marriage carries the most potential to make us most angry (or at least angry most often).

Counsel for Couples Battling Anger

This heightened tendency toward anger isn’t a defect in marriage. It’s actually a consequence of what makes marriage beautiful. Marriage has a higher and more consistent capacity for anger because marriage has a higher and more consistent capacity for intimacy. Sin hurts more when we’ve opened and entrusted all of ourselves to someone. The proximity and vulnerability can make even small sins feel like acts of war.

So how can couples fight to put their anger to bed? While many (rightly) turn to Ephesians 5 for a vision for marriage, the verses immediately before that chapter also hold valuable weapons in the fight to love each other well.

1. Anger is a good emotion that we often express sinfully.

Be angry. (Ephesians 4:26)

You won’t often hear those two words together in premarital counseling (or any counseling, for that matter). Before we try to put away our anger for the night, we need to remember that anger can be a healthy and godly response to evil.

“Many marriages suffer because we assume that anger is always bad — or that our anger is always justified.”

Many of us have developed a map of our emotional life in which anger is always out of bounds. We tend to assume that anger — especially any anger directed at us! — is unwarranted and wrong. This was my bent coming into marriage. God’s word to us, however, is not, “Never be angry,” but, “Be angry, and do not sin.” Has your marriage made room for some righteous anger over an offense? Does either of you ever say, “I was wrong. I sinned against you. And it’s right for you to be angry about that”?

Many marriages suffer because we assume that anger is always bad — or that our anger is always justified. Often, we assume the former when it comes to our spouse’s anger, and the latter when it comes to our own. The rest of chapter 4, however, puts checks on the anger that inevitably arises in marriage.

2. Strive to put away all anger.

Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. (Ephesians 4:31)

Wait, isn’t this a blatant contradiction? Didn’t Paul just say, “Be angry, and do not sin”? There is a tension here, but not a contradiction. Much of maturity and wisdom in marriage (and in the Christian life in general) is found in the ability to know when to apply seemingly opposite commands — when to correct offenses, and when to overlook them; when to speak, and when to stay silent; when to be angry over sin, and when to put away anger.

“Be angry over the sin in your marriage, and don’t go to bed angry.”

The message should be clear: anger has a place in healthy hearts, but it’s a limited and temporary place. It’s right to feel angry over evil, but only within a life that’s actively, persistently laying anger aside — and not just most anger, but all anger (“Let all bitterness and wrath and anger . . . be put away from you”). God gives even our righteous anger an expiration date — and that expiration date is today.

3. The 24-hour day is a mercy for marriages.

Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger. (Ephesians 4:26)

Have you ever wondered why God made each day 24 hours long? Surely there are hundreds of good reasons, but he himself tells us at least one of them here: because it checks our anger and keeps it from breaking into a quiet wildfire. In this way, the 24-hour day is a great mercy for marriages. As the sun crosses the sky each day and begins to bury itself on the horizon, it steadily carries us toward reconciliation. It draws a line in the sand that forces us to choose between submitting to God and seeking reconciliation or refusing his counsel and coddling our hurt.

Many marriages suffer because we let offenses harden into bitterness that slowly erodes trust and intimacy over days, or weeks, or even months. Trust is the currency of intimacy. Spouses can squander that trust in big, obvious ways that we could all name. Trust is also squandered in more subtle ways, though, and perhaps the most common way is by carrying and stoking offenses. The initial hurt or anger may have been completely warranted, but the warrant has long expired, and yet the bitterness quietly remains and wounds and separates. So God pushes the sun around the earth, each and every day, to give us a golden opportunity to put away all our anger.

Let me add one important qualification here: full reconciliation may be unrealistic some days. Releasing our anger does not mean all is well in the relationship. That’s why in our home we talk about pursuing meaningful reconciliation before bed. A little bit of time and sleep can actually be great allies in the process. Insisting on full reconciliation in a short time often will just prolong the pain and discord (again, I’ve learned this firsthand). That doesn’t mean, however, that we should allow ourselves to harbor anger or settle for less than real forgiveness and reconciliation. It just means we’ll have to be patient at times for the warmth and harmony to fully return. The important lesson here is that both spouses resolve to regularly, even daily, put away all anger.

4. Unresolved conflict opens a door for the devil.

Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil. (Ephesians 4:26–27)

Maybe we would be quicker to resolve conflict in our marriages if we could see what Satan can do with unresolved conflict. It’s not simply that he can poke and stir unresolved conflict and make it worse over time; it’s that unresolved conflict gives him access to every other area of our marriages. An open wound in one area eventually bleeds onto every other area. Sleeping together gets harder. Praying together gets harder. Parenting together gets harder. Scheduling together gets harder. Serving together gets harder. Just existing together gets harder.

Many marriages suffer because they ignore the spiritual war against marriage. “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood” — including the flesh and blood lying beside us in bed — “but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). Every marital battle is first and foremost a spiritual battle, and we’ll inevitably lose that battle if we think we’re only fighting each other.

5. Treat your spouse’s sin as Christ has treated yours.

Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. (Ephesians 4:32)

How many marital crises and divorces might have been averted if these fifteen words had really taken hold?

Notice, Paul doesn’t merely say, “Be kind and forgive one another,” but “Forgive as God has forgiven you in Christ.” God didn’t just overlook our sin and begrudgingly move on; no, his Son bore our griefs, he carried our sorrows, he received our thorns, he was crushed for our iniquities, he was wounded to heal our wounds, he was cursed, all so that we might be forgiven. So forgive as you’ve been forgiven. Nothing you or I suffer in marriage will ask or demand more of us than what Christ bore for our sake on the cross.

Many couples who have practiced this verse have made a startling discovery: conflict is actually an unusual opportunity for intimacy. Why? Because when we treat each other’s sin as Christ has treated ours, we both get to see and experience more of him. For sure, we get to see and experience him on the days when we get along, but how much more present and real does he feel when we extend and receive meaningful forgiveness, when we receive harshness with kindness, when we stay and love when we could reasonably leave?

The moments in marriage that make us most angry can become the clearest pictures of Christ and his church. What else could make a husband so kind, even now? What else would compel a wife to forgive him — again? Where else would a love so selfless, so patient, so resilient even come from?

So, husband and wife, be angry over the sin in your marriage, and don’t go to bed angry.

Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge. –Psalm 16:1

This verse has become the most common prayer that I pray. I pray it both for its simplicity and its profundity. The logic of the prayer is that of a child’s: “Save me for no other reason than that I’m in danger and I’ve run to you for help.” “Keep me because I seek safety and protection in you.” Not, “Keep me because of my past or future faithfulness.” Not, “Preserve me because I’m useful or because I’m worthy.” Just, “Preserve me, because I’m frightened and I’m here and my eyes are looking to you.”

The childlike spirit of the request is reflected in Thomas Ken’s “Evening Hymn.”

All praise to thee, my God, this nightFor all the blessing of the light.Keep me, O keep me, King of kingsBeneath thine own almighty wings.

But the prayers of a child are not necessarily childish prayers. Often there is a depth and weight to such prayers which make them fitting for Christians of all ages. Meditate with me on the depth of this simple prayer.

Preserve Me from What?

King David’s prayer implies perils we must seek refuge from. There are threats, dangers, hostile forces, challenges. And there are. In the world. In the church. In your life and mine.

The psalm does not specify the dangers. But we can imagine. The dangers could be external. Enemies who plot and scheme and set traps. Wicked men who lie in wait and pursue the innocent. Liars and slanderers who utter false things against us. Disease and sickness which lay us low. The loss of wealth or job or other forms of earthly security.

All of these (and more) could be in the mind of the psalmist. More importantly, the absence of specificity allows us to fill in the gap, to supply our own dangers and threats and challenges so that David’s prayer becomes our own.

Seeking Refuge

In the face of the danger (whatever dangers we face), the response is the same: we seek refuge in God. The notion of “taking refuge” is a common one in Scripture. It means to find shelter and protection and safety in something. When the scorching sun beats down on us, we take refuge in the shade of a tree. When the icy winds and snowstorms threaten, we take refuge in a warm house.

The image often connotes a pursuer (Psalm 7:2; 17:7). If a man accidentally kills another, for example, he flees to a city of refuge in order to be kept from the avenger of blood. Or the city of Zion, founded by Yahweh, is a refuge for the afflicted of his people (Isaiah 14:32). If someone shoots an arrow at us, we take refuge behind a shield.

A refuge belongs to a cluster of biblical terms that identify places of sanctuary and strength. Psalm 18 stacks such terms one after another. “The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold” (Psalm 18:2).

“When our self-sufficiency is proved to be the lie that it is, where do we run?”

To seek refuge means to find the place where we can let down our guard, where we don’t have to be on high alert. To find refuge is to find rest, a place where we can sleep because someone strong and secure is keeping watch. Images give the term meaning. The child, fleeing from a bully, takes refuge at his older brother’s side. The chicks, hearing a loud noise, take refuge beneath the wings of their mother. The desperate family, pursued by soldiers, finds a hiding place in the Ten Boom house.

The prayer of Psalm 16:1 poses challenging questions to us. When we face dangers and threats, where do we turn? When our self-sufficiency is proved to be the lie that it is, where do we run? When we sense danger, we all seek refuge. But do we seek refuge in God? Do we run to him? Do we hide in him? Or do we run to earthly shelters, to worldly fortresses, to false idols?

Enemy Within

There are real external dangers in the world. And when we face them, we ought to seek refuge in God and cry to him to keep us.

I am daily sensible, though, that the greatest threat to my being kept and preserved is not external opposition, or persecution by non-Christians, or physical threats, or relational conflict among former friends and colleagues, or misrepresentations and slander. The greatest threat to my being kept is my own unbelief. Not things out there; something in here. Unbelief is the greatest threat and danger and challenge that I face. Which means when I pray, “Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge,” I mean, “I take refuge in you from me.” My thoughts. My passions. My sinful desires. My doubts. My moods. My unbelief.

What’s more, I have found that frequently Psalm 16:1 is both a request and a fulfillment of the request. That is, God is answering the prayer, in part, in my praying of the prayer. He is keeping me in my prayer to be kept. The prayer itself interrupts the thoughts, passions, desires, doubts, and moods that were threatening my faith.

Rescue Me from Doubt

Consider how Psalm 16:1 interrupts doubts. There I am, living as a Christian, resting in and hoping in Christ. The risen Christ is a living assumption undergirding my life and actions, and his word and gospel frame reality for me.

Then doubts come crashing into that normal Christian life. Perhaps doubts about my eternal state. Or perhaps doubts about the reality of God and the truth of the gospel. The bedrock conviction of life feels shaken. Faith feels fragile, and I wonder whether I’ll be kept. In those moments, “the God question” can easily become all-consuming. Unbelief and skepticism become the default posture of the soul, and the mind revolves endlessly on itself, looking for a way out. In other words, I’m seeking refuge.

“God is not a puzzle to be solved, but a person to be sought.”

In those moments, Psalm 16:1 is both a prayer and a means of deliverance. The prayer reframes the doubts and the questions because Psalm 16:1 is both a description and an enactment. I don’t just ask him to keep me because I’ve sought refuge in him in the past. I am seeking refuge in God now, in the present, by asking him to keep me now, in the present.

In praying the psalm, I turn from thinking about God as an intellectual puzzle from a posture of unbelief. Instead, I am addressing God as a person from a posture of desperate and child-like faith. And that difference is crucial. God is not a puzzle to be solved, but a person to be sought.

Preserve Me, O God

Psalm 16:1 interrupts my doubts by awakening me to the reality that we never talk about God behind his back. Our thoughts and deeds, our desires and doubts, our questions and moods — all of these are conducted in his presence, before his face, at his right hand.

The prayer of Psalm 16:1 is a prayer of faith, since I am no longer attempting to reason about God in his absence but addressing him as Father in his presence. And through such awakenings and interruptions, God answers my prayer. He keeps me, because I seek refuge in him.

Yes, Psalm 16:1 is as profound as it is simple, as simple as it is profound. God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. And therefore, I encourage you, in the face of dangers and enemies, anxieties and fears, doubt and unbelief, make Psalm 16:1 your prayer.

Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.