A Letter to a Friend

Dear N_____,

I would love to discuss with you the article you handed me last Saturday. I have found, though, that I am much more capable of expressing myself with clarity and brevity through the written word, so I typed up this letter, but please don’t take it to mean that I’m not open to talking with you about this topic or any other.
First, I will admit that your note and the enclosed article came as a surprise to me. Not that I was surprised to read that you care about me and my family—your warm heart is evident to us both, as I hope ours is to you. We also are convinced that you are a person who thinks deeply about things, and honestly desires to do her best in life. Particularly with regards to how you are raising H___ to know and love the Lord. But, I was surprised to learn how great a difference there is between my faith and what is taught in the Church of Christ. All my life, I’ve just considered the Church of Christ as a sister denomination that had different views on music and baptism; I see now that there are far weightier, troubling rifts between the two. I know you were loved and nurtured in a Church of Christ congregation when you first made a profession, and I want to be respectful of that, but I must defend my convictions and explain why I believe the way I do.
I won’t say much about the article itself. I think John wants to include a word, so I will let him address that. I will say that when the author states that the Bible doesn’t teach faith alone for salvation, he is lying. Point blank: lying. Please don’t take my word for it, go and read it for yourself. I’ve included an article, “Is Salvation by Faith Alone, or By Faith Plus Works?”, with several scriptures that should be helpful, and I encourage you to read the entire book of Galatians—this is Paul’s letter to an early church that was dealing with the same issue and question. Notice, I didn’t say, “take it to your preacher and see what he thinks.” You—yourself—read the Bible and decide.
I agree whole heartedly with the James verses the Church of Christ pastor includes, and know that those scriptures were inspired by God. Go and read through them also, but again, I urge you to not only read the snippet of verse he quotes in the article, but the whole passage. Make sure you understand the context in which James is teaching these “work” principles.
Another problem in discussing this article is the author’s use of ‘belief’ and ‘faith’ as meaning the same thing. To me, these aren’t the same thing, and I think the Bible clearly teaches they are distinct and different. This contradiction in terms might make any discussion quite confusing for us both. What it boils down to is this:

Church of Christ Teaching on Salvation
Belief (or they might say ‘Faith’ since the words—according to this article—are interchangeable) + Works=Salvation
Baptist Teaching on Salvation
Faith alone in Christ alone by grace alone=Salvation
True Faith=Works

To illustrate this principle, I will share my own story. I was raised in a Christian home. Went to church three times a week from my infancy. By the time I was H____’s age I could have told you pretty much every event from Jesus’ earthly life plus many, many more Bible stories besides. I don’t ever remember a time when I did not know about Jesus, when I did not believe in Jesus (in that He was real and alive), or even when I didn’t love Jesus. This may sound strange, but as a small child, I really felt as though He was a member of my family. Sure, I’d never actually met Him, but wasn’t everyone always talking about Him and to Him, and weren’t we all going to see Him very soon? (Funny how children’s minds work, but I pray my kids feel the same way.)
Was I saved? Do I think that “belief” saved me? No. I agree with the author of the article that you can believe and yet not be saved. It is sad and sobering to consider it, but I’m afraid that many people sitting in the pews of our churches believe but do not have faith. They know an awful lot about Jesus, but they do not know Jesus. Praise God, He did not leave me in that condition! At the age of seven, the Spirit began to call me to Himself. I felt convicted of my sin but—at the same time—did not want to let go of it. Loving Jesus (or so I thought) and convinced He was right, yet resenting Him for wanting to spoil all of my fun. Knowing—because I had been carefully taught—that He saw all things, but wanting so desperately to hide my ugly parts, only show Him the good, and work hard to be a better person. A part of me did not want to yield, did not want to commit my heart to Him. I did not have genuine faith. I was sitting in a church service one night, miserable, because of this struggle. Only when I finally gave up, confessed my sin and asked Him to make me His child did I receive the gift of salvation. I don’t have to wonder about it (though I do wonder over it, and know I will spend an eternity wondering over this:” Why would He save me?” It is a wonderful, wonderful thought), I don’t have to quote scripture and verse (though I can quote many, many verses as proof), I KNOW BECAUSE I WAS THERE. God gave me a new heart, one that belonged to Him. An obedient heart that not only wants to do good works, but has the power to do them through Christ!
The next day when I got on my bus, it was a though I saw my schoolmates with new eyes. Suddenly I wondered…Did they have the things they needed? Did they feel loved? Did they know Jesus? These thoughts shocked me; I had never considered such things before. They were not from me but from the Lord. And my new heart was breaking because I felt sure that some of them did not have good things. Did not feel loved. Had never heard the stories of Jesus. I share this with you, because this was one of the first evidences that I was a new creature. At that time, I had not been baptized. It wasn’t until the next week I was baptized. I was baptized because I wanted to obey Jesus’ command, and because I wanted to let everyone know of the change that had happened on the inside. Not because being baptized was something I had to do (a “work”) to earn salvation. Natasha, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt Jesus had already saved me. If that school bus driver had pulled out in front of an oncoming train, I would have awoke in the arms of Jesus.
The good works came after. Indeed, I am powerless to good works, unless Christ works in me. Jesus said, “I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing.” The Word is clear: if a person is truly in Christ, they will produce fruit.
Based on the article and my subsequent study of other Church of Christ teachings, I’ve learned that not only do they teach a works based theology; they also maintain that they are the only true church. The article states that because we hold to faith alone for salvation, we are damned. Your words to me in your note confirmed this. You seem anxious for our souls, stating that you care about us, which is why you are writing the letter. I’m curious, what does the Spirit—not the Church of Christ—tell you in regards to this matter? Do we not serve the same Jesus? The Bible says, “You shall know them by their fruits.” Have you not seen the good works of the Lord in us? Does He not testify to you that we are brother and sister in Christ? But the saddest thing I’ve learned is that they also teach that you can lose your salvation. Which, I guess, only makes sense: if it is your effort that gets you in to grace, it stands to reason that your efforts, or lack thereof, can get you out of grace. At least they are being consistent. So, I have included the article, “Guarded through Faith: Assurance and the Doctrine of Perseverance.” I beg you to read the article and the scripture it sites with an open heart. I cannot imagine going through life unsure of my salvation or believing I could lose my home in heaven.
Continue searching and asking questions. God has promised to teach us: “You shall know the truth. And the truth shall set you free. John 8:32”

Love,
Jessica

A Dream

Over a month ago, I had the most beautiful dream of my life. I've been re-telling it to myself the last few weeks before sleep--wrapping myself in its warmth and security. Tonight, it was more difficult to recapture; my memory fades much too rapidly. I must save it here.

I was at home with John and the doorbell rang. On the doorstep, I found a stranger. A well dressed stranger who made it immediately evident he was on official business. My first impression was that he must be from the IRS or census bureau; he wore a grey suit and thick glasses. I could not see his eyes. I invited him in and he sat down on our couch and opened a laptop and briefcase. My dreaming self was perfectly at ease even though this visit was unexpected. Then he began to ask us questions about our daughter. I thought, "Oh, he is not from the government after all. He is a social worker." I was a little perturbed that we had not been notified of a home visit, but again, I had nothing to hide from this man in any case. His questions revealed intimate knowledge of our daughter's birth history and he would not accept vague or elusive answers. Who was this guy, anyway? Finally, he asked me if I had her eyes checked. I blushed with shame.

The day we were released from the NICU, I was told that preemies needed to have their vision screening repeated at four months. Though I remembered to ask my pediatrician about it later, we had never followed through with the test. He did not seem to think it was important and with all of her other medical needs, I wasn't itching to take on more appointments with a pediatric optamologist. Now well over a year old, she's never given indication that her vision is anything less than perfect.

In my dream, I opened my mouth to give these very good excuses, but they stuck in my throat. I could not put this man off. The stranger seemed to sense my discomfort and embarrassment. He began to talk about how important our daughter was and how vital it was for us to care for her--to the smallest detail. She was a gift and we were responsible for her. Yet, he was not angry or annoyed with us. His voice was kind and patient, and I thought, "This man is no stranger. He loves her very much. He loves me very much." Still not certain of the stranger's identity, I felt sure of that fact. I wanted to assure him that we were taking good care of her, that we loved her dearly, but then it suddenly struck me, "He already knows my heart." With growing awareness, I glanced at John, and then I knew.
I fell at His feet. I think John did too, but I can't say for sure, because after that moment, I was not aware of anything or anyone but Him. I remained prostrate on the floor, but I was not afraid. I only felt love--but a love that I've never known before. A complete love--not emanating from my heart alone, but every fiber of my being--whole adoration. As though each cell in my body clamored to praise this Man. And even though this was a new sensation for me, it felt right, like coming home after a long journey.

There wasn't any more to the dream. I awoke and instantly felt a sense of loss, but I was excited, too. I dreamed about meeting with Jesus! I told John and K about my dream. John wanted me to call for an eye doctor appointment that day. While I will definitely schedule the test at her next check-up, that isn't what I took away from the dream.

You know the story of Mary and Martha? Well, I've always secretly sympathized with Martha. I could completely see her point and considered Mary something of a slacker. I've listened to many good sermons and Sunday school lessons and I've tried to internalize His rebuke, and afterwards found myself still wondering, "Yes, but dinner had to be put on the table, didn't it?" However, I'm not a Martha now. I'm a Mary. After that dream, I cannot imagine doing anything--least of all slaving in the kitchen--when the opportunity to sit at Jesus's feet was before me. How could you be anywhere else? What could Martha have been thinking? Mary wasn't avoiding her duty. I now believe she was oblivious to the sounds, sights, and smells from the kitchen. Her senses were filled with Jesus, and He is far and away the "better part."

Rust

James 3:8-No one can tame the tongue; it is a restless evil and full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in the likeness of God; from the same mouth come both blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not be this way. Does a fountain send out from the same source both fresh and bitter water?

Or from the Spanish (disclaimer, this is LOOSELY translated from the Spanish New King James by me, who is neither a Spanish language expert, or Bible scholar):

No one controls the tongue (literally, 'no one brings it into submission'). It is a type of evil that is never satisfied or content to let be. It has all the poison it can hold. With the tongue we bless (most literally, 'make speeches') to our Lord, and we also curse men, those who bear His likeness. This isn't right! Do you get salt and fresh water from the same source?

Yes, I realize that this is the verse I posted on earlier, but sisters, there is SO MUCH there that I need to learn. I'd say I could camp out here for another three, four, or say, 20 posts, and not have plumbed its depths.

I happened to be wrapping up this study at the kitchen table at the same time the master [those of you who do not normally ready my every day blog, "the master," (little 'm') is my blog name for hubby]was studying for his Sunday sermon on the computer. Priscilla closes the study with this question:

Discuss what the uses of poison reveal about the danger of an undisciplined tongue. How does it feel to know you have used your tongue as an instrument of poison?

I began to ponder how poison works on the body. Perhaps it is my ADHD tendencies coming out, but I found my mind wandering, "What does poison do, exactly? How does it work?" Besides knowing that poison is bad--it can kill you--I had little for my brain to work with. Thankfully, I've had few brushes with poison. I asked the master to google 'poison in the body,' and he obliged. He read about poison attacking the nervous system, damaging the heart, spreading infection in the blood stream, and without immediate medical care, leading to sudden and certain death.

Surely, nothing that came from my mouth could be included in this category. My words--even the "undisciplined" ones--aren't that insidious. Ha, ha, Mrs. Shirer, you can color me off the hook!

The master: Of course, this website is dealing with snake poison...
Me: Mmm Hmm? distracted because I'm looking ahead to day 2; nothing more for me to learn here after all
The master: Well, what kind of poison is the verse talking about? -pause- not hearing him because I'm translating day 2 Jess! What verse are you in?
Me:Oh! It was James 8:3
The master: Let's look it up on Blue Letter Bible. Few things in life give him more pleasure than Blue Letter Bible. The Greek word used there for 'poison' can mean the poison of asps....ugh, yeah, we covered that...the poison of animals...right, o.k. Got it. Moving right along...and rust.

Hold the phone! Rust? No, it can't be! The steady drips of sarcasm, the tiny overflows of anger, the small seepage of derision--those couldn't possibly count? And in that moment, the Holy Spirit revealed the sin of my mouth, my spirit, my heart (for out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks). My "colorful verbiage," my "telling it like it is," my "extensive vocabulary," are qualities I actually pride myself in. But so often they are nothing more than bitter waters flowing out and corroding those around me.

And where does this acidic fount pool? Why, on the people I love most! I wouldn't spread that kind of sewage around in public! Nothing so speedily deadly as a snake bite, true, but slowly and surely, my undisciplined words are eating away at my children and my husband--like rust. And to answer your question, Priscilla, it feels lousy to be an instrument of rust.

Seal them up, Lord, those leaks. I don't want them. I repent of using my mouth to destroy my family, bit by little bit. Wash me from the inside and renew a right spirit within me. Amen.

Tongue Safety

James 3:8-No one can tame the tongue; it is a restless evil and full of deadly poison.

Proverbs 12:18-Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.

I grew up with guns in the house. My dad, an avid outdoorsman and gun enthusiast, kept a collection of all types of firearms. The oldest in the collection--passed down to him by my grandfather--were kept in the gun cabinet. Other guns were kept under his bed in cases, stacked in closets, laid to rest on dressers and hutches. He had small zippered travel holsters for pistols, and long hard cases for buck rifles and shotguns. None of them were locked.

They didn't have to be. While you may look aghast at this seemingly irresponsible negligence on the part of my parents, my sisters and I were perfectly safe. So schooled were we--from the time we were mere infants--to regard guns with the utmost of respect, we would not have approached even the area where the weapons were without cautious reverence. We knew what they were, what they would do, the permanence of the repercussions, the finality of the results. With guns there was never a "do-over." As a teen, I learned that--with the exception of two revolvers Dad kept on top of mom's wardrobe with the handles pointed out--none of the guns were loaded. But this tidbit of information was superfluous, because I had been brought up to believe that, "every gun is a loaded gun," and to treat them as such.

My heavenly Father created me with my own personal deadly weapon: my tongue. But He didn't leave me to my own devices, He's given me very precise instructions for its use. In His word He's warned me over and over again about its power, its lethal capabilities, its unreliability, its tendency to misfire. But unlike Daddy's gun safety education, I've not taken those warnings to heart. As a child, I would not have dared to retrieve an item from a closet shelf without first carefully examining the spot--standing on a chair if necessary--gingerly running my fingers over the location, and calling to double-check that the area in question was a de-militarized zone. Yet, as a grown adult, I'll shoot my mouth off in the most haphazard way. I take no precautions, exercise no patience or reserve, and forget to ask my Father's permission. I wield the world's most deadly weapon entirely unthinking and, frankly, unconcerned of the havoc I leave in my path. Sisters, "these things ought not to be." Starting now, I commit to ask the Holy Spirit's help in following some basic "tongue safety."

1) Treat every word as a loaded word. (Amen! Isn't it though?!)
2) Be as vigilant, careful, even reticent with the use of my tongue as I would be if approaching a venomous snake, a ravenous beast, an uncontrolled fire, or a deadly weapon. After all, that is exactly what the Lord tells me it is.
3)Never be deceived that you have your weapon unloaded and the safety on. That you are in control. You can't control the tongue! Instead, yield your weapon--every day, every hour, every minute--to the Weapon Maker, the Safety Instructor, the Expert Marksman.
4)Remember, just like with guns, there are no "do-overs." Once said, you can't call those words back. They've been discharged, and you will give an account for their intent, aim, target, and carnage.