I hope that every person within earshot of my voice today is a believer in our Lord Jesus Christ. Nothing else would please me so much as if that were the case. But I cannot risk thinking it is so if it is not. Too much is at stake. Eternity is at stake. For it only faith in Christ that will secure a soul for heaven. Anything less will disappoint.
And so, I appeal to you for your patience. I have labored many years in the vineyard of the Lord, and yet I cannot tell you whether or not I have gathered much fruit for our Lord’s glory. I suppose no preacher knows fully how effective he is in presenting the gospel. I fear that my harvest has been far too small, given the opportunity the Lord has afforded me.
So, if you are a believer, bear with me today as I speak to those few souls—or perhaps only one, and maybe none—who have yet to believe. I trust that, if you know the Lord, his ‘old, old story’ will not be burdensome to you, that, indeed, as the hymn says, you ‘love to tell the story.’ And I rely on the possibility that, again as the hymn says, each time [you] tell it, ‘it is more wonderful and sweet.’
So, grant me this indulgence, I plead, to offer yet again to unredeemed sinners the glad news of redemption from sin.
We are looking at chapter 3 of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, where he warns his readers against those he calls ‘the dogs,’ that is, those who tell us that Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross is not enough to save us but that we need something else. We need to DO something as well as BELIEVE something. In other words, we rely on the flesh. And by ‘the flesh’ what we mean is certain qualities of our own: our status, our accomplishments, our claims to certain honors and privileges—our resume we might say.
But what Paul shows us here is how empty the promise of the flesh turns out to be. He ought to know, for he tells us that, at one time, he himself depended on the flesh. He relied on his own performance. His confidence, for example, was in outward ritual, ‘circumcised’ as he was ‘on the eighth day.’ His confidence was in racial pride, for he was born ‘of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews.’ It was in his religious identity, for he was ‘a Pharisee,’ and in his religious fervor, for he tells us how zealous he was. And it was in his own moral record, for, he tells us that, ‘as to righteousness under the law,’ he was ‘blameless.’
But all this was merely external, like a layer of paint on a wall that hides the black mold underneath. Now, listen to me: None of the personal assets Paul cites are to be despised. They are all, in fact, good things. A fresh coat of paint, after all, can brighten any room. Paul was religious, and he was serious about his religion. He was a good person, better than most of his contemporaries perhaps.
But he saw what we must see: It is possible that more people go to hell clinging to their goodness than those who cling to their sins. Let us never forget how the Scriptures say that ‘all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment’ (Isa. 64:6). Even when we are at our best, we are not good enough. For often our good deeds are done with self-serving motives rather than for the glory of God. And even if we could multiply our righteous deeds so that they mounted up to heaven, our goodness will but cover up our sins. The stench of sin is not so easily removed. Its odor remains. Not to mention its stain. Like the ink of the tattoo artist, the marks of our transgressions penetrate the surface and seep deep into the soul. Oh, truly, we may exclaim with the hymn writer, ‘What can wash away my sin?’
You see, then, how the promise of the flesh fails us. Whether we depend on our family name, or who our grandparents before us may have been, or our parents even, or what we have done and what we have refrained from doing, or how often we have endured sitting in a hard pew, or the fact that we were baptized by kindly, old Dr. So-and-So, these things, commendable as they are, are not sufficient to support us in that day when we shall stand before God and give account of our lives.
What then can sustain us? Only one thing. And we dare not overlook it. And that one thing is not what we have done for God; it is what God has done for us—and more particularly what God has done for us in Christ. We must let go of every other support and lean all our weight on this one thing: that Christ died for us to bear the weight and guilt of our sin.
Hear how Paul puts it in verses 7, 8, and 9: ‘But whatever gain I had,’ he says, ‘I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from [keeping] the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith.’
How else shall I put it, so that even the smallest child among us may understand it? Salvation—that is, refuge from God’s wrath against sin—is not found in what you or I do. It is found in what Christ has done for us. It is not achieved; it is received. Let me repeat: a right standing with God is not achieved; it is received. And so, we must let go of every other support to which we resort. How does the great hymn put it?
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.
But how? How do I come to to lean on Jesus, to believe in him? How can I ‘be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from [keeping] the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness [that comes] from God [and] that depends on faith’?
Notice that this righteousness ‘comes from God’ and ‘depends on faith.’ It cannot be generated from within ourselves. It comes to us from outside ourselves. We do not work it up. God works it in. And we receive it by faith.
How is it that I may exercise this faith of which the Scriptures speak? To put it another way, how can I have saving faith, the faith in Christ that saves a sinner such as I am? That is the question I want to answer, so that you may come to such faith—if you have not already done so—and so that you may be assured of the salvation it brings.
Saving faith is made up of three elements: First, there is knowledge. Second, there is mental assent. And then, third, there is one more thing—and it is essential. But before I tell you what this third element is, let me present to you the first two.
First, then, saving faith requires knowledge. There are some things you must know. And, specifically, you must know the facts that constellate around salvation.
To begin with, you must know and acknowledge that you are a sinner. And what that means is not just that you have done some bad things, although you most certainly have. But you must know that your sins are an offense to God, a rebellion against his rule in your life. You must know this.
And, secondly, you must know that God is holy and just and that his justice requires satisfaction for your offenses. The penalty of sin must be paid. It cannot be escaped. You stand condemned before God, and he will have justice.
Third, you must know that you are unable to do anything to help yourself in this matter. Not only have you committed any number of sins, but you are yourself by nature a sinner. That is why the good things you have done cannot save you. Recall, if you will, how we spoke of the stain and stench of sin. You can cover them up, but you cannot rid yourself of them.
These are hard things to accept, and they will either drive you away from God, or they will humble you before him. And, if you are humbled by them, rejoice. For your humility—your abandonment of any notion that you can defend or explain yourself or present even some very good excuses in your favor; if you can see that none of these strategies are an aid to you—you are positioned then to receive these harsh facts, and you are ready for what is truly good news, a message of hope straight from the heart of God. And this too you must know. Jesus Christ, God’s pure and sinless Son, has died for you and taken upon himself the penalty for your sins. His death on the cross has atoned for your guilt, and his resurrection from the dead has secured for you eternal life.
Those are the things you must know. But there is more to faith than knowledge. What comes next is that you must believe all these things to be true. In your mind, you must come to accept the veracity of these things: your sin, God’s justice, the fact that, in yourself, you are helpless before God’s verdict, but also the fact that Jesus, as your substitute, has died in your place and has taken your penalty upon himself. He has borne the wrath of God in your place. You must mentally assent to these truths. You must be able to say, I confess that these things are so.
So, first, there are some things you must know, and, second, these are things to which you must assent mentally. But even this is not enough. You will recall how James says, ‘You believe in God? You do well. But remember, even the demons believe—and shudder!’ (Jas. 2:19, paraphrased). You see, just knowing the facts and mentally assenting to them are not enough. Faith requires one more thing.
There is knowledge. There is assent. And then, third, there is trust. You must rely on these things you have come to know and believe. You must place your trust in Jesus and in him alone. You must lean on him, depend on him, and trust him to save you. If you do, he will.
And then, when that day comes when you must give an account to God, you will be able to say with all those who have put their faith in Christ and Christ alone, that you are not dressed in the ‘polluted garments’ of your own righteousness, but rather that you are ‘dressed in his righteousness alone, faultless to stand before the throne.’
You have no idea how dangerous it is for you to linger yet another day, or even another moment, before you close with Christ. Knowing that Christ died for you, a condemned and helpless sinner, and believing this with all your heart, won’t you put your trust in him now? Abandon all notions of your adequacy and acceptability before God and look to his Son to be your Rock of refuge. Look to him in faith, and he will embrace you in mercy. And you will be ‘found in him.’
