As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus, so walk ye in him: Rooted and built up in him, and established in the faith… —Colossians 2:6-7
Among other things, the Bible is a record of the struggle of twice-born men to live in a world run by the once-born.* —A. W. Tozer
Christian perfection is not so severe, tiresome and constraining as we think. It asks us (only) to be God's from the bottom of our hearts.* —Francois Fenelon
Many modern Christians have a few vague notions about sanctification which are, at best, haltingly expressed on rare occasions. Sanctification, often viewed as a post salvation doctrine, nearly always fails to carry the theological import of the "basics" such as faith and justification. It has become another one of those "nice, but not necessary" doctrines; a spiritual luxury enjoyed by those dedicated enough to pursue God after He has saved them.
Our relationship with Christ entails more than salvation of course, but it also involves more than following Him. It assumes a severance from all other illicit loves. Sanctification, as applied to our love relationship with Jesus (rather than adapted to an impersonal theology), is simply the "how to" of faithfulness.
Very few Christians find themselves wrestling with a love for the devil. The likelihood of our being attracted to Satan's person is more remote than Elijah courting Jezebel. He chills us—leaves us cold. This is not only because of his cruel campaign to torment God, but because there is something inherently foul about him.
Have we not seen this Devil's destructiveness making a bonfire of past, present and future in one mighty conflagration? Smelt him, rancid-sweet? Touched him, slippery-soft? Measured with the eye his fearful shape? Heard his fearful rhetoric? Glimpsed him, sometimes in a mirror, with drooling, greedy mouth, misty ravening eyes and flushed flesh?[1]
We do not love him, but he doesn't require our direct worship. He's quite satisfied to remain behind the scenes, bleeding us through his stable of moral harlots. Greed, lust, envy, pride, and a host of others are in his employ. He operates, if you will, as a spiritual pimp. And when one of his "girls" becomes our lover, our attention is focused on the immediate, while his own role is of little concern to us.
The struggle, as we've said before, isn't with the devil. But neither is it with our desire for happiness and pleasure. It's not the "want to" that constitutes sin, but the "choice to." It is the choice to gratify a desire in an illegal manner. It's not the pimp, nor our desire for the girl that dooms us, it's our choice to lie with her. Sin involves turning our loyalties inside out and giving ourselves to harlotry. And as Christians, it involves even more—it is an issue of faithfulness. "As there can be physical adultery, so too there can be unfaithfulness to the divine bridegroom—spiritual adultery."[2] This is where we feel the tension.
Inside we are aware of God's burning love for us. We recognize the great cost in redemption and we have experienced His tender concern in our lives. Yet, as desperately as we want to show our gratitude, as deeply as we want to reciprocate by demonstrating our love for Him, we find, rather embarrassingly, that it is—well, a struggle. We know He is the one for us. No one could possibly love us as He does, and yet, it seems we spend so much time contending with the allurements of other loves. Appearing alternately as passionate desire or the easy way out, temptation entices us to "be filled".
As temptation beckons and seems to say, "You can't resist for long," our response is often deep frustration. "If I really loved Him why am I struggling?" Gordon Olson asks "Is there no let-up from these constant struggles? Is there no point that can be reached in Christian experience when intermittent waverings, in our consecration are eliminated, or at least reduced to momentary less passionate departures?[3] The answer happily is Yes.
As we further consider the matter of spiritual faithfulness, two very important and interrelated theological theories surface: Positional Sanctification and Carnal Christianity. Both are widely prescribed today in order to tranquilize spiritual adulterers struggling in the throes of guilt.
Unger’s Bible Dictionary gives us an insight into the nature and implications of positional sanctification in its summary statement of the New Testament teaching on the doctrine of sanctification.
The New Testament presents the doctrine of salvation in three aspects: positional, experiential and ultimate. Positional sanctification is the possession of everyone ‘in Christ.’ It depends only upon one’s union with and position ‘in Christ.’ First Corinthians presents proof that imperfect believers are nevertheless positionally sanctified and therefore ‘saints.’ The Corinthian Christians were carnal in life but they are twice said to have been sanctified.[4]
In other words, the Corinthian Christians were positionally sanctified without being experientially sanctified. Or, according to Scofield’s notes, they were walking “after the flesh” but were nevertheless “renewed” by the spirit.[5] To help us sort out all of these positions and experiences, consider the passage in question.
And I, brethren, could not speak unto you as unto spiritual, but as unto carnal, even as unto babes in Christ. I have fed you with milk, and not with meat: for hitherto ye were not able to bear it, neither yet now are ye able. For ye are yet carnal: for whereas there is among you envying, and strife, and divisions, are ye not carnal, and walk as men? —1 Corinthians 3:1-3
In his book, What Should We Think of the Carnal Christian?, Ernest Reisinger relates the following story:
At a church service that I attended recently, the preacher, a sincere minister, was expounding I Corinthians, chapter 3, and he said to a large congregation, ‘Now after you become a Christian you have another choice—either to grow in grace, follow the Lord and become a spiritual Christian, or to remain a babe in Christ and live like natural men.’ He used 1 Corinthians 3:1-4 to state that there were three categories of men—the natural man, the spiritual man, and the carnal man. He described the carnal man as being like the natural man who was unconverted.[6]
This practice of categorizing men into various spiritual configurations has become extremely popular. Ministers unwilling to offend their congregations, and fearful of being called legalists, have created spiritual pigeonholes to accommodate any and all lifestyles. Reisinger continues,
One of the most common and popular presentations of this position is available in the form of a small tract which presents the teaching like this:
“After you have invited Christ into your life, it is possible for you to take control of the throne of your life again. The New Testament passage, I Corinthians 2:14-3:3, identifies three kinds of people:

There will be no dispute about the first circle which represents the non-Christian. Note the position of the Ego, indicating that self is on the throne. The natural man is a self-centered man; his interests are controlled by self. Now compare this with the second circle-the only difference is that a cross (representing Christ) appears, although not on the throne. And the same little dots are in circle two as in circle one, indicating that there has been no basic reorganization or change in the nature and character. That is to say, the bent of the life of the ‘carnal Christian’ is the same as that of the non-Christian. Circle two gives basically the same picture as circle one, the only difference being that the ‘carnal Christian’ has made a profession of receiving Jesus. But he is ‘not trusting God’.”[7]
What this teaching essentially propounds is this: If an individual has at some moment in time accepted Christ, he is, from that moment on, positionally sanctified “in Christ.” This position he now has in Christ has nothing to do with his day-to-day behavior or experiential sanctification. In other words, it is possible to be positionally sanctified while living carnally. We are not talking here about doing carnal things, or having difficulties in a particular area. We are talking about an individual who is walking after the flesh, whose ego or self is still on the throne of the heart.
What is the difference between a positionally sanctified, carnal Christian living for himself supremely and an unregenerate, natural man living for himself supremely? Here again we see strong evidence of theology detached from relationship. Unger’s Bible Dictionary expounds these confused categories:
The basis of experiential sanctification, or actual holiness of life, is positional sanctification or what one is ‘in Christ.’ One’s position is true whether or not he reckons or counts it as true. But it becomes experientially real only… as one reckons it to be true.[8]
In order to effectively understand any scripture, consideration must be given to the surrounding context in which it lies. When the context of the carnal Christian passage is examined, we discover that Paul is dealing with the specific problem of factionalism (unwholesome divisions).
Paul is not saying that they (the Corinthian believers) were characterized by carnality in every area of their lives. He is not expounding a general doctrine of carnality but reproving a specific outcropping of carnality in one certain respect.[9]
If this passage in 1 Corinthians does not establish a special category for loose-living Christians, then where in scripture do we find reference to the issue? Where does the Bible state that a Christian can live carnally? Where does it say that he can be positionally sanctified without being sanctified experientially? The fact of the matter is that positional sanctification is simply being used as another term for justification, the forgiveness of sins, while experiential sanctification is defined as a nonessential change of heart which takes place in some believers after salvation. This is serious error.
When the Bible talks about the new covenant (Jeremiah 31:31-34; Ezekiel 36:24-27; Hebrews 10:15-17), it describes
…one covenant with two inseparable parts—the forgiveness of sins and a changed heart. When a sinner is reconciled to God something happens in the record of heaven, the blood of Christ covers his sins-but at the same time something happens on earth in the heart. The ‘carnal Christian’ teaching appeals to those who are supposed to be justified, as though a new heart and life are optional. Sanctification is spoken of as though it can be subsequent to the forgiveness of sins and so people are led to believe that they are justified even though they are not being sanctified! The truth is that we have no reason to believe that Christ’s blood covers our sins in the record of heaven if the Spirit has not changed our hearts on earth. These two great blessings are joined together in the one covenant.[10]
In other words, God can’t forgive a man without a transformation.
How then are we transformed? How do we stabilize our lives against the turbulence created by appetites and passions accustomed to gratification? Can we in fact reach a place of spiritual maturity? The answers to these questions are worth their weight in gold to Christians in quest of guidelines for victorious Christian living. And happily these answers are available to us.
Spiritual victory is not realized by giving mental assent to an abstract positional theology. Spiritual victory must involve us. Yet clearly it
…is not something that we achieve by ourselves in a state of isolation, (nor is it) something that we have as a personal possession. Rather, it is an achieved state of relationship with God."[11]
Or as Charles Finney wrote,
Our a activity, though properly our own, is nevertheless stimulated and directed by His presence and agency within us, so that we can and must say with Paul, 'yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.'[12]
Jesus said:
He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit, for without me ye can do nothing. —John 15:5
Not only do these words remind us of what we cannot do, they present us with a blueprint for action; they reveal to us what we can do. The gospel of John (chapters 15 and 17) supplies us with a definition and instructions for application of the power of God in sanctification.
The word sanctified actually means set apart. It is worth noting, however, that the biblical concept of sanctification does not stress being entirely removed. It rather conveys the idea of being "different in the midst of" or "in but not of." Jesus prays for His disciples along this very line.
I do not ask Thee to take them out of the world, but to keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; Thy word is truth. As thou didst send Me into the world, I also have sent them into the world. And for their sakes I sanctify Myself that they themselves also may be sanctified in truth. —John 17:15-19 (NASB)
In an earlier chapter Jesus gives us the practical "how to" of being in the world but not of it. We find the word abide appearing ten times in the first ten verses of John chapter 15. Jesus is not offering teaching on salvation here. He is not talking to people who are not sanctified. He is dispensing the secret of maintaining our spiritual walk. In John 15:3 Jesus says, "You are already clean because of the word which I have spoken to you." But he immediately then states, "Abide in Me" if you want to produce any spiritual fruit.
If anyone does not abide in Me, he is thrown away as a branch, and dries up and they gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they are burned. —John 15:6 (NASB)
A branch that is not abiding in the vine is symbolic of a life that is out of relationship with God. And a life out of relationship with God is cut off from the only life source in the universe. This is precisely why this life will dry up.
The Psalmist could say, 'All my springs are in Thee.' He is the fountain of life. Whatever of life is in us flows directly from Him, as the sap flows from the vine to the branch…[13]
Deliverance from sin as promised in the Gospel is impossible unless we are willing to live a life in communication with God, for it is the Godhead who must deliver us. If we do not want to take the trouble to maintain this happy, submissive life, then we are left to fight our own battles with gruesome defeat on every hand." [14]
So, in order to remain sanctified or "set apart" from sin and the world, we must abide in Christ. Not in some mystical, abstract manner, but in regular intimate communion with earnest desire.
The experience of abiding in Christ is like being in the eye of a hurricane. As long as our attention is focused on Him, we are kept in perfect peace though the winds of iniquity rage all about us. We are "in but not of." Outside of Christ's embrace, however, we have no more chance of resisting the maelstrom of sin than a leaf in a mid-winter gale. We must be reminded that:
…continual deliverance depends upon our having learned the secret of continual abiding in Christ, and that, therefore, it is not automatic. We must learn not only the 'how' but also the 'when.' Or, to put it more fully, we must not only learn how to look to the Lord in faith but must become sharpened in our spiritual perception and sensitivity to the guidance of the Holy Spirit, so that we instantly recognize when we need to look to the Lord for deliverance.[15]
When will the Church understand that Christ is our sanctification; that we have no life, no holiness, no sanctification, except as we abide in Christ…[16]
The question that seems to occur to many at this point concerns the actual initiation and outworking of this "abiding" relationship. Our emotional lives have been cultivated for so long that they have, as Charles Finney stated, become "tremblingly alive" to the things of the world. How is it possible to live in the spiritual realm while our emotional lives are geared to the natural? Jesus gives us the answer.
Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth along: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. —John 12:24
If it die—it bringeth forth fruit. Jesus, using the analogy of a seed falling to the ground, losing its form and eventually bringing forth fruit, sets forth the spiritual principle of life from death. Death, in this case to self, represents a doorway to the spiritual relationship that is referred to as being "in Christ." This relationship is complete when we love Jesus and keep His words. Of a man at this stage Jesus states, "My Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him." (John 14:23).
Except it die—it abideth alone. The individual who chooses to hold on and resist the world through abstinence rather than abiding is fighting a losing battle. We are simply too ill equipped to conquer sin while abiding alone. Relationship is crucial. As Watchman Nee declares,
Abstinence is merely worldly. Yet how many earnest Christians are forsaking all sorts of worldly pleasures in the hope thereby of being delivered out of the world! You can build yourself a hermit's hut in some remote spot and think to escape the world by retiring there, but the world will follow you… It will dog your footsteps and find you no matter where you hide. Our deliverance from the world begins, not with our giving up this or that but with our seeing, as with God's eyes, that it is a world under sentence of death.[17]
I recall a young man several years ago caught in the grip of an intense inner struggle. Brought up in a Christian home, well versed in doctrine and blessed with a fine intellect, he was nevertheless gripped by spiritual unrest. After spending many days analyzing his situation in hopes of isolating the root of his seeming paralysis, I was on the brink of discouragement when the Lord all at once provided the answer from a most unexpected source. A few days prior, I had been reading a novel about a deadly plague ravaging the Algerian port of Oran. Near the end of the story, the author described the ordeal of one particular man who contracted the plague after working tirelessly as a volunteer in the overloaded hospital. He was stricken at a time when it appeared the plague had passed. The account of his struggle to prevent the plague from claiming him as one of its final victims created a poignant drama.
I looked at my friend as the Lord brought the story to my mind and said, "Jerry, you're resisting the Divine Plague! You've been fighting tenaciously to hang on to your life, and God wants you to let it go. He wants you to succumb, Jerry… to die!" As long as you fight to retain control of your life, He is unable to possess you and perform all these things you have been asking Him to do in you and through you. I realize it's terrifying to feel the reins of your life slipping from your hands. Death is never easy because it is veiled on the side of the living, and we just don't know what's to become of us.
Until we all are prepared to yield completely, God will faithfully trouble us, as Malcolm Muggeridge suggests in his book Jesus Rediscovered.
God comes padding after me like a Hound of Heaven. His shadow falls over all my little picnics in the sunshine, chilling the air; draining viands of their flavor, talk of its sparkle, desire of its zest… one shivers as the divine beast of prey gets ready for the final spring; as the shadow lengthens, reducing to infinite triviality all mortal hopes and desires.[18]
We hang on to our lives tightly because we are afraid of what we will lose should we let them go. This fact is in itself revealing. It shows us what we are really living for. As we waver over the conscious and the tangible, it reveals a short sighted desire for the immediate. Like the children of Israel seeking a "table in the wilderness," we ask, "Can God provide flesh for His people?"
We find out soon enough that God will give us our own desire. Down it comes, flesh, the tangible something we can sink our teeth into, the immediate. Delighted with our circumstance we "fill" ourselves with that which will never fill us. But in time the euphoria is gone. We discover that the "immediate" looks less real all the time.
We are all, in a sense, like thirsty desert wanderers. It is natural for us to jump at the first "sighting" of desperately needed water. But the wise man will not run after it long. He will not fail to notice that the water which he had spotted and with which he sought to quench his thirst is keeping its fair distance no matter how much ground he covers. Yet today so many are actually increasing the thirst they seek, to quench by continually rushing after mirages. Jesus said:
He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.
Matthew 10:39
God is not attempting to strip away our dreams and ambitions altogether. He is merely trying to encourage us toward that which will really satisfy. He encourages those who "hunger and thirst after righteousness" that "they shall be filled." We hear the voice of God across the desert, "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters…" (Isaiah 55:1). The man who "loses" his life doesn't die in the desert chasing mirages, but discovers out of the somewhat frightening, trembling expiration of self, a new, inner oasis.
But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life. —John 4:14
Those who will release themselves utterly into the hands of God will discover a sense of abandonment to the things that previously occupied their hearts. It's at once a feeling of near weightless relief, after the pressure of managing our own affairs is dispensed with, and a sense of being borne up into the heavenlies where life suddenly takes on brand new perspective. We are freed from the burden of governing our own affairs that we might focus our attention on the King's business. Although the process of giving ourselves wholly to God involves giving up our sin as a first step, the matter by no means ends at this point. There is also an emptying involved that drains out all ostensible rights. He will take rightful but loving control over every area of our lives; mere confession of sin is not enough. He does not want us to give up our sins and keep ourselves, He wants us to give up the whole package.
The Christian way is different: harder and easier. Christ says 'Give Me all. I don't want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want you. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. [19]
Not yielding up to God what is rightfully His, Fenelon calls "sacrilegious theft." We might even venture to say that holding on to our rights amounts, in effect, to spiritual suicide.
The reader might like to get on with dying, but not know how to go about it. It's one thing to have a willingness to give up to God what is rightfully His, and quite another to know how to do it. I remember receiving a letter not too long ago from a young man begging me to instruct him on how he might die to himself. He was more than willing. He was desirous of the death of his self-interests to bring him into more intimate fellowship with the Lord. He just didn't know how to go about it.
The answer is—don't do it. Don't try to set up your own execution. Many Christians interpret Jesus' admonition to "take up the cross" as instructions to begin immediate cross building. This is a mistake. Although Jesus indeed instructs us to take up our cross (as opposed to His cross—Calvary), He nowhere suggests that we attempt spiritual self-execution. John Wright Follette reminds us,
The cross is a symbol of suffering. Do you want to live? Then take up your cross. What is your cross? You will have to interpret your own cross, for yours is not like anyone else's. It will be a cross fitting your whole concept and disposition, and more than that, your will. Whatever you are in your will, determines your cross. What may be a cross to you may seem like a joy-ride to another. It is that which will crucify the I in you that will determine your cross…[20]
Why can't we build our own crosses? Simply because the ones we build do not get the job done. No one is proficient at self execution. For this reason, when an individual attempts to "crucify" himself, more often than not, he remains very much alive. A cross manufactured by a twentieth century Christian is generally quite plush. Padded and cushioned, the believer reposes on the cross in style. To help ease the pain, sympathetic friends mount a special remote control television set and pass up a sponge filled with Coca-Cola. Within a few days the "disciple" dismounts his cross and begins to share on the resurrection life of which he knows nothing—due, of course, to the fact he never died!
If we will wait on the Lord, He will, master craftsman that He is, fashion a cross for us that will accomplish its purpose. It will slay us. He knows what it will take to bring us to the end:
He disillusions us with ourselves by the experience of our weakness and our corruption, in an infinite number of failures, and yet, even then when He seems to overwhelm us, it is for our good, it is to spare us from the harm which we would do to ourselves. What we weep for would have made us weep eternally. What we believe to have lost was lost when we thought we had it.[21]
It was only a desert mirage.
Spiritual victory is realized only when we see the path of life from a higher position. An earthly view alone is too localized and deceptive. Although the immediate view may be accurate, it is nevertheless limited. We can only garner the strength to refuse the compromises of immediate pleasures by acquiring a full and accurate view of life, the sort of "extended vision" which gave Moses the strength to forsake the temporal pleasures of Pharaoh's palace. "…He endured, as seeing Him who is invisible" (Heb. 11:27). When Elisha and his young servant were surrounded by hostile forces, the prophet said,
Lord, I pray thee, open his eyes that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of that young man; and he saw: and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha. —2 Kings 6:17
Our tendency to think pessimistically seems to affect our outlook on just about everything. Religious themes are they are prime not only not exempted from this pessimism, they are prime targets. This matter of dying to self is a good example of what I mean. It seems the only thing many people can think of when this subject is broached is what they will have to give up, what they are going to lose. Yet God promises that "He that loses his life for my sake will find it." He will find his life! What encouraging tidings! These are not negative words of loss, but positive words. Jesus suffers no equation here. Rather, He offers us life for mere existence, and extended vision for spiritual blindness. It is an offer made by One who knows what living really is, to those who do not. The Master's words contain no paradox except to those limited by a "flesh and blood" worldview.
In other words, this "extended vision" is a direct reward of this process of spiritual death. Job evidently acquired "seeing eyes" after his cross had done its work, for he declared, "I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear but now mind eye seeth thee" (Job 42:5).
"Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God" (Matthew 5:8). Those diligent enough to see God will see, as well, the overall structure of life. It's not that this structure is invisible that so many fail to see it, but that spiritual blindness is so widespread. Life cannot be accurately interpreted by anyone other than a true Christian. This is true not because Christians have necessarily earned positions of counsel, but because they "see." God has designed that spiritual sight be a possession of the humble. Thus it is that those unwilling to "lose their lives" for His sake are destined to remain blind.
So often those involved in various spiritual projects are totally oblivious to the place and purpose of their particular vision in God's overall scheme. They work at it day after day with no real understanding of what they are doing. The man of God, however, who has lost his life for Christ's sake, who has fallen into the ground and died, receives his commission from the Lord along with its context. He arises from his "death" to view the world through eyes that see color and detail which the church's leisure class fails to notice. To this man life vibrates with meaning and anticipation.
I am a flame born of celestial fire
I bear a name, Insatiable Desire.
I wear in heart an image all divine,
Past human art, not traced by mortal line.
I hear God call to taste His heavenly power,
I give my all to bum life's single hour.
So let me burn through fetters that would bind;
Thus will I learn and freedom will I find.
I shall return to Love's eternal fire.
There shall I burn—a satisfied desire.[22]
May we pursue a clean heart and righteous hands within the diligence of a David. May we return to Love's eternal fire and hear him say, "Blessed are your eyes, for they see…" (Matt. 13:16).