It’s not as popular a sentiment as it used to be. Or at least it seems that way. That is, the idea that our salvation is a matter of outweighing our bad deeds with good ones. Kind of like a works-based Gospel meets karma. Or something like that. But nevertheless, it is still an idea that has a way of prevailing. And at first, it makes sense. After all, that is how we operate.

We often assess people or things by their greatest good, and neglect their evil, provided it’s to a lesser degree. Or vice-versa. In a spiritual sense, deed-counting seems like a reasonable approach.

Of course a careful rational exploration of what God must be like will reveal that keeping the works in balance probably wouldn’t get you anywhere with a true deity of cosmic proportion—at least not one that is hands-on. And, the Bible flat out tells us that this isn’t the case. However, the Bible also leaves other clues that this couldn’t possibly be the case. Even if we were somehow misunderstanding what is meant when it tells us that our Life is not based on “works” but on “grace”.

The clues lie in the bible’s teaching that all of man’s works are flawed. Our good deeds aren’t good per se. They are good, in one sense, that all things that hold some reflection of God’s character are good. But they are not “good” in a different sense that nothing is so unless it comes from faith.

The bible teaches that “whatever does not proceed from faith is sin.” (Romans 14:23). It also teaches that before we are made alive through Christ, we are “dead” in our trespasses (Colossians 2:13).

Before being redeemed by Christ, a persons ‘good deeds’ are in their greater part not good deeds. They have the appearance of good deeds, and in a way they are good because they are a reflection of God’s character, but they are still bad deeds.

If our salvation were a matter of balancing the scales, we would never pull it off regardless of how many we manage to perform. For every good deed we do, we not only add weight to the good side of the scale, we add even more weight to the bad side. It would never balance out and we would invariably perish in our sin, thinking to ourselves, “but I’ve been so good!” And our final prideful declaration would dot the T’s and cross the I’s of our well veiled life of sin.

So much for Christian Karma. Thank God for grace.

Imagine a boss or supervisor at work who simply cannot be satisfied with anything you do. Each time you discover a new way to fulfill his wishes, you discover ten new things that you’re not even coming close to getting right. When you finally rectify those things, you discover ten more you’re missing completely. This is the law.

No matter how much you seek to follow it, satisfying it will always be out of reach. The law is intended for one main purpose: to drive us to repentance by showing us the destitution of our plight.

That is why Paul writes in Romans 3:20:

“For by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin.”

We cannot be justified by something that is endlessly revealing how short we’re falling of success. The concept of being justified, heck, even having any hope for this life, by our works—by the things we say and do and feel—is simply unreasonable. What human being can say with honesty that they’ve even been honest their whole life? No one. And before a righteous God, that has rendered their works null.

Even quantum traces of logic and reason will say that if there is a just and righteous God, grace is our only hope.

When I was new Christian, I often wondered at the seeming lack of dramatic miraculous happenings. Healings. Exorcisms. Resurrections. They are talked about so much in the New Testament and often in the Old Testament that it appeared to be a major disconnect. And today, I still regularly hear people wonder at this very same thing.

And sure, there are still places and situations where these miraculous things take place. But they are far from the norm and though I’ve heard the arguments that it’s our national church’s deficiency to blame, I’m very much unconvinced.

What to me, is more surprising is that most of us miss the truly incredible, totally wild, thing that happens every day: the forgiveness of God’s enemies and their immediate resurrection from spiritual death into spiritual life. Then, their subsequent ascent into submission to Christ.

In Luke 5:20-24 Jesus is in a crowded room teaching. A paralyzed man is unable to reach him for healing, so some friends lower him through the roof. Most of us know the story. When the man finally reaches Jesus, this is what the scripture says:

And when he saw their faith, he said, "Man, your sins are forgiven you." And the scribes and the Pharisees began to question, saying, "Who is this who speaks blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone?" When Jesus perceived their thoughts, he answered them, "Why do you question in your hearts? Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven you,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins"—he said to the man who was paralyzed—"I say to you, rise, pick up your bed and go home."

Now, the statement Jesus makes is not primarily that forgiving sins is greater than healing of the physical body. It’s more about his own supremacy. But the point comes across anyway.

We are apt to look around and feel a lack of legitimacy when we don’t see miraculous happenings around us. But I think that if Jesus would respond to this right now, he would marvel at how quickly we overlook what is truly impressive. I think he would say something like, “You want to see miracles, but you’ve missed the greatest miracle I’ve performed. Your very own salvation.”

Growing up Catholic, I’m familiar with the mindset that believes Christians can and do ‘fall out of grace’, so to speak. That if we’ve done something bad enough, we’re in danger of Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf being ineffective. And so there is a need to do some spiritual patch work and yet again seek God’s forgiveness through Christ.

Even in parts of the protestant church where that’s really not the teaching, the mindset still definitely exists (at least on some subtle level).

After all, teaching on post-conversion repentance isn’t really on the top of most church’s list—although teaching vaguely about ‘repentance’ is. So it would seem to me that what we end up with is a whole slew of Christians under the impression that if they’ve screwed up hard enough they’re on the outs. That is until they make things right with some magic prayer of repentance. Although no one can be quite sure what that is so everyone just wings it and hopes they’re getting it right.

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating the issue a bit. But for the sake of a point, it’s alright I suppose.

Hebrews 10:11-14 sets things straight:

“every priest stands daily at his service, offering repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins. But when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God, waiting from that time until his enemies should be made a footstool for his feet. For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.”

Christians need to understand that the regeneration, justification, and propitiation brought about by Christ’s death on the cross and delivered through the conduit of our faith, are irrevocable.

Notice the change of tenses in verse 14. Yes, Christians are being sanctified, but we’ve already been perfected (in a way).

Following Jesus’ death, resurrection and ascension, he didn’t go to some library style grace-renewal booth to divvy out renewals to the grace on sinner’s lives. He sat down at the right hand of God because what he’s done is done.

Continual repentance is crucial in a Christians life. But not because if he doesn’t do it, he’s losing his salvation, but because if repentance never comes, he probably never had salvation to begin with. It’s simply something Christians do. It’s who we are. We love God and when it comes to us that we have wronged and offended him, repentance just happens. Like juice coming from an orange when it’s squeezed—If no juice comes out, it’s probably not an orange.

So keep on repenting? Yeah, of course. We just need to do it remembering that Jesus’ work is done and the Father isn’t angry anymore.

In the book of Isaiah, God tells king Hezekiah to put his house in order because he’s going to die. Hezekiah is heart broken and prays that God would change his mind. God hears Hezekiah’s prayer and gives him another 15 years.

I absolutely love Hezekiah’s response when he heard that God had given him more life. I know it’s an extended portion of scripture, but read it and remember that in your position as a Christian, these words are practically your own.

A writing of Hezekiah king of Judah, after he had been sick and had recovered from his sickness:
I said, In the middle of my days
   I must depart;
I am consigned to the gates of Sheol
   for the rest of my years.
I said, I shall not see the LORD,
   the LORD in the land of the living;
I shall look on man no more
   among the inhabitants of the world.
My dwelling is plucked up and removed from me
    like a shepherd’s tent;
like a weaver I have rolled up my life;
    he cuts me off from the loom;
from day to night you bring me to an end;
I calmed myself until morning;
like a lion he breaks all my bones;
   from day to night you bring me to an end.

Like a swallow or a crane I chirp;
    I moan like a dove.
My eyes are weary with looking upward.
   O Lord, I am oppressed; be my pledge of safety!
What shall I say? For he has spoken to me,
   and he himself has done it.
I walk slowly all my years
   because of the bitterness of my soul.

O Lord, by these things men live,
   and in all these is the life of my spirit.
   Oh restore me to health and make me live!
Behold, it was for my welfare
   that I had great bitterness;
but in love you have delivered my life
   from the pit of destruction,
for you have cast all my sins
   behind your back.
For Sheol does not thank you;
   death does not praise you;
those who go down to the pit do not hope
   for your faithfulness.
The living, the living, he thanks you,
   as I do this day;
the father makes known to the children
   your faithfulness.

The LORD will save me,
   and we will play my music on stringed instruments
all the days of our lives,
    at the house of the LORD.

A little later in 2 Chronicles chapter 16, we learn of Asa, king of Judah. He decides to mount a military offensive against the king of Israel. To do so, he enlists the help of the foreign nation Aram. He is successful in his endeavor.

Shortly after however, Hanani, the seer, comes to him with a prophetic word. He says:

Because you relied on the king of Aram and not on the LORD your God, the army of the king of Aram has escaped from your hand. Were not the Cushites and Libyans a mighty army with great numbers of chariots and horsemen? Yet when you relied on the LORD, he delivered them into your hand. For the eyes of the LORD range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him. You have done a foolish thing, and from now on you will be at war."

God has faced Asa with his sin and explains in detail the folly of it. Asa had first hand experience that if he would only lean on the Lord, he would be provided for. And although his military offensive was successful, Asa (and the nation of Judah) would be punished for his sin.

Asa is angry with the seer and his words. He even puts him in prison. His pride welled up and he revolted against God—at least for all intents and purposes.

In time, Asa continued to refuse to repent and lean on the Lord:

In the thirty-ninth year of his reign Asa was afflicted with a disease in his feet. Though his disease was severe, even in his illness he did not seek help from the LORD, but only from the physicians.

I read this tonight and found that this is still common. In Asa’s case, he is unhappy with God’s discipline. I’m sure it is this way sometimes, but more often I think people are unhappy with God’s choices in dealing with them or their loved ones. Perhaps we’ve lost our comfort, security, finances, family or friends. It is common for people to respond to this in pride and refuse to follow the Lord because of this, much like Asa did.

And, for some even with repeated opportunities to repent, solace is sought from the World, rather from God who gives freely.

Let’s hope and pray none of us fall to that brand of sin.

Solomon says:

"I am dark, but lovely." (Song of Solomon 1:5)

I say:

"I am filthy, but somehow loved."

Seems that me and Solomon share an important sentiment. This is not a matter of reason, but of reality–which might be the hardest part.