David R. Heesen
(Janesville, Wisconsin)

RECENTLY I ASKED A ROMAN Catholic priest whether we are saved¹ by works or by grace. After some deliberation he told me, "Grace." Grace is a very vital subject to me---you might say I'm obsessed with the grace of God, with the God of grace. I spent 11 years under a typical modern day brand of Christianity before God saved me by His grace. Why God chose to open my eyes I don't know, but "I once was blind, but now I see."²

Now that I can see, I can see the rock from which I was hewn, the pit from which I was digged---the error of this 20th century humanism in evangelical garb, this Romanism in Protestant garb, which while proclaiming "salvation by grace," defines grace in such a way as to become essentially works. Grace became something that God gives in response to my faith. I was responsible to "get saved" which meant: walk that aisle, make that decision, pray that prayer, "Jesus, come into my heart." God was then obliged to bestow His grace.

This religion was very appealing---God's love was emphasized. In fact it seemed to be the prevailing theme of most of the sermons. There was much excitement, many programs, much much action. I was told to smile and sing, then smile some more and sing louder. There was much play on my emotions. The song service, the sermon---they were just conditioners for the moment of truth when God somehow would tap me on the shoulder and, at the sight of all those people going forward (I didn't know they were counselors), and at the sound of the music, I would be swept down with them, given a few Bible verses, pray a prayer, sign a card, and thus be ushered into God's kingdom. I had done all that was required of me---what more could I do? God had to save me. (Forgive me if you find my description offensive. I slander not God, Christ, grace, salvation. I condemn ritual, religious ritual. When the modern day altar call becomes a religious rite, a sacrament, or means of grace, then it is nothing but abomination in the sight of God.)

God's love was (I repeat) proclaimed. But it was a weak, wishy-washy kind of "luv." He apparently had every intention of saving me---if I would only let Him. He couldn't do much more than invite, and wish. He certainly wouldn't force Himself on me---He was too much of a gentleman. "He had already done all He could, now the rest was up to me." I heard that statement many times---that is why I couldn't get my eyes off of myself and onto Christ. I held the keys of my own destiny; I was the master of my fate. Christ was preached too. I sang "Jesus Saves" and "There is Power in the Blood" all the time but, at the same time realized that He couldn't save me unless I let Him, and that His blood was powerless unless I availed myself of it. Somehow I was left with the impression that Christ had died, risen, ascended, sat down at the right hand of the Father and they were now waiting to see who would believe. Christ had not died for anyone in particular, and certainly not the church, because "there WAS no universal church." I was told I was a sinner dead in trespasses and sins but yet not so dead that I couldn't choose Christ of my own free will. I was a child of wrath, a slave to sin, sinful through and through, at enmity with God, but somehow my will had escaped the pollution and was poised ready to decide for God. I was a leopard who could change his own spots. The zeal and fervor of this religion was so great that it seemed that there was no other way. Any other brand was dismissed as either cold and formal, or holy-roller type. Modernism was the great enemy of the day and was attacked with great vigor. Imagine my surprise when I found out Modernism had died several decades before, and the real enemy was within.

There was a tremendous emphasis on outward things. Legalism was decried and proclaimed from one-and-the-same pulpit. You were the epitome of righteousness if you: didn't smoke, drink, play cards, go to movies, dance, have long hair, have short hair, wear tight pants, wear baggy pants. No matter what the inside of the cup looked like the outside had to be immaculate and sparkling. The implications were obvious: how to be a Christian without being born again.³

As I mentioned, I was under the delusion of this so-called "gospel" for a period of 11 years. During this time it became evident that I was not alone in my confusion. Especially at Bible college where scores of students it seemed were "getting saved" all over again. Then the majority of testimonies which we heard followed the same pattern: So-and-So made a profession at such-and-such an age, was baptized; then years later discovered they weren't really a Christian and so went the route again and "settled it once and for all."

Then there were scores of young people who (like myself) seemed to have no real relationship with the Lord, were having problems with sin, but had a good religious exterior, could talk the language, and because they had made a profession of faith at such-and-such-a-time-way-back-when were called brother or sister. A special category was created to accommodate us. Humankind was divided into three great classifications, the lost, the spiritual Christian, and that miserable creature---the carnal Christian. Though the Bible speaks of only the righteous and the wicked, the third category had somehow materialized to explain why Christians were growing so sinful and unconcerned with spiritual matters they had accepted Christ as Saviour and so were saved, but they had yet to "make Him Lord." Apparently the same Christ who couldn't be our Saviour unless we let Him, also couldn't be Lord unless we made Him Lord.

Then there were the ones who had seemed so promising---a dramatic conversion (or so we thought)---within a week they brought ten first-time visitors to church, and smashed all their rock records to smithereens---within a month they were given a bus route or even a class---then within a year they were worse than before their conversion, "fast bound in sin and nature's night." The novelty had worn off. Like a meteor they had shone brightly for a brief time and then burned out into oblivion. We pitied them, but we should have pitied ourselves. In our haste for a convert we catered to their carnality, gave them an emotional high, squeezed out a profession of sorts, and then abandoned them to fend for themselves, still unconverted. Thus we hatched a full-blooded hypocrite, destined to disgrace, dishonor, and disappoint. These were considered Christians. They had said the magic words. That was all that was required. As far as their salvation was concerned their case was closed. My case was closed too until God got hold of me. What a mess this was! What a mess I was! Was this what Christianity had become? just so much religion? Or was the devil subtlely twisting reality in my mind? Either way, Satan must have thought he had the case sewed up.

Now, my purpose is not to present a critique of modern evangelicalism, but rather to testify of God's grace. And I've only presented this rather depressing, noxious, and perhaps obnoxious discourse as a gloomy backdrop upon which God's mercy must shine all the brighter. Let this not be received as a scathing indictment of the religious route, but a testimony of the fulness and overwhelming sufficiency of God's grace. The very existence of an imitation implies an object worth imitating. Hypocrisy presupposes the genuine article. In August of 1972 I had just gotten out of the hospital, having had a bout with pneumonia and was glad to hear I had a clean bill of health. Now I was assured of being able to enter my third year at Bible college. What I didn't know was that God was about to enroll me in the school of grace.

I was beginning to have some questions about some of the methods of the school and its supporting churches. Though my spiritual eyes were blind they were beginning to open just enough to see a widening gulf between the Bible and this ever-more-popular brand of Christianity. What got to me were the gimmicks and the emphasis on numbers. It didn't take much spiritual insight to conclude that staffing 30 church buses each with its own Santa Claus had little (if anything) to do with "the truth as it is in Jesus." Neither did it require much godly discernment to disassociate "the losing team captain rolling a peanut down the aisle with his nose during the morning service" with "the faith once delivered to the saints." Though both of these practices were either endorsed or tolerated, they were still only particulars and not the real heart of the problem. That defective methodology stemmed from defective theology I was to soon find out, but not without a total upheaval of my own foundations. For "my hope was built on nothing less than" filthy rags and wretchedness. That I, who wasn't even sure of my own salvation, would dare point my finger at the incongruities of the spiritual establishment, was the peak of presumption.

As I mentioned, God was about to enroll me in His school of grace. Through some "radical" students and some "radical" literature I was to learn my first lesson---God's sovereignty. It has been said, and it is true, that "you can't get to the beginning of God until you get to the end of yourself." But when you catch a glimpse of God's sovereignty you get to the end of yourself pretty quick. When the truths of Romans 9 were impressed upon me my religious crutches started wobbling pretty noticeably. "Hath not the potter power over the clay?"⁴ "Jacob have I loved, and Esau have I hated."⁵ Then when the full impact of "I WILL HAVE MERCY UPON WHOM I WILL HAVE MERCY"⁶ hit me square between the eyes, my crutches were kicked right out from under me. But I was still on my feet. God wasn't through yet. My legs gave way with the lesson on man's depravity. Here was the rich young ruler who came to Jesus inquiring about eternal life. A perfect candidate for salvation if there ever was one. Jesus saw an unrepentant heart through that religious facade and sent him on his way. In His humanity, it grieved Christ to do so, but in His Godhood "he quickeneth whom he will."⁷ I hadn't a leg to stand on.

Then came a lesson on man's inability. Not only could he not keep the Ten Commandments, he couldn't even keep the gospel commands to repent and believe. His will was free, true, free to follow its own inclinations. "All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way."⁸ "No man seeketh after God."⁹ "Ye will not come to me that ye might have life."¹⁰ "No man can come to me except it were given him by the Father." "God, woe is me for I am undone. Thou hast no obligation to¹¹ show mercy on such as I. Save me or I die."

There was no hope for me now. My only claim to salvation (my profession) was taken away, and I was left with just my sin. My rotten sin! I was trembling destitute in the hands of a sovereign God. I was ready for the final lesson---Christ. A Christ who died for me? Then there is hope. A Christ who is "ready to save to the uttermost all who come to God by Him." A Jesus who "shall save His people from their sins." A Christ who gave His life for the world in general and His sheep in particular. A Christ who came to "seek and to save that which was lost." Did He fail in His mission? Did he fail? Is this a statement of failure?: "And this is the Father's will which hath sent me, that all which he hath given me I should lose nothing but should raise it up again at the last day." Is this a prayer of failure?: "Father, the hour is come: glorify thy Son, that thy Son also may glorify thee: As thou hast given him power over all flesh, that he should give eternal life to as many as thou hast given him. And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent. I have glorified thee on the earth: I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do---" IT IS FINISHED!

What's finished? A wide road paved half way to heaven? or a narrow road paved all the way there? It was Christ who said, "Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you." This ran completely counter to the salvation system which centered on my choice. This was the Christ that saved my soul. Jesus does save. There is power in the blood.

In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopped my wild career.

I saw one hanging on a tree,
In agonies and blood,
Who fixed His languid eyes on me,
As near His cross I stood.

Sure, never till my latest breath
Can I forget that look
It seemed to charge me with His death,
Though not a word he spoke.

My conscience felt, and owned the guilt,
And plunged me in despair;
I saw my sins His blood had spilt
And helped to nail Him there.

Alas! I knew not what I did;
But now my tears are vain,
Where shall my trembling soul be hid?
For I the Lord have slain.

A second look He gave, which said,
"I freely all forgive:
"This blood is for thy ransom paid,
"I die, that thou mayest live."

Thus while His death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue,
(Such is the mystery of grace,)
It seals my pardon too.

With pleasing grief and mournful joy
My spirit now is filled.
That I should such a life destroy,
Yet live by Him I killed.
---John Newton

Can you resist a Christ such as this? No, a thousand times no! Can you refuse a grace like this? I certainly couldn't. "Calvary conquered my heart." "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me." That voice said, "Whosoever will may come." Gone was the final barrier in my heart.

I know not how the Spirit moves,
Convincing men of sin,
Revealing Jesus thro' the Word,
Creating faith in Him.

That winter there at Bible college God was gracious to me and saved me. He was determined to do so. He didn't force it against my will---He just made me willing, or should I say, desperate. SUCH IS HIS IRRESISTIBLE GRACE.

NOTES
1. Saved: Delivered from sin and its consequences.
2. John 9:25
3. John 3:3
4. Romans 9:21
5. Romans 9:13, quoting Malachi 1:2,3.
6. Romans 9:15
7. John 5:21
8. Isaiah 53:6
9. Romans 3:11
10. John 5:40
11. John 6:65

---October 1979

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