The Naked Gospel: Truth You May Never Hear in Church (8 page)

Do not let us consider ourselves as far off when
God has made us one with him.

Hudson Taylor (1832-1905)

H
OW MANY SINS DOES IT TAKE TO BECOME A SINNER
?

This is a question I pose during our “Naked Gospel” seminar. And I usually watch a majority of the audience mouthing the word
one.
“It only takes
one
sin to become a sinner,” they say. The reality, however, is that it takes none—zero.

We’re
born
sinners.

I know what you’re thinking. That was a trick question. It may be, but the common answer to this question reveals what the average person believes about nature.
Human
nature. When we buy the idea that it takes one sin to become a sinner, we assume the following:

• We
  do
  in order to
  be.
  
• We presume that doing precedes being.
  
• Hence, people
  become
  sinners or
  become
  saints by doing things that sinners or saints do.
  

But is this biblical? I don’t think it is, and as a result it hinders the unbeliever from understanding their fallen nature by birth. It also hinders the believer from comprehending their new nature by
re
birth. But if we can grasp that by birth we’re sinners, only then can we see how by birth alone—our new birth—we become saints.

In a heartbeat, Christians buy the idea that the world is full of sinners. Once enlightened by the Scriptures, we also agree that we’re born in a sinful condition. Perhaps because spiritual death is a lowly state, we easily agree that the world is fallen. But when it comes to believing that we’re 100 percent righteous by
re
birth, we stutter and stammer over our words. In short, we believers consent to “birth determines identity” for the world but not for our own selves.

Within the Catholic vein of thought, saints are those who have suffered for the gospel. They’ve performed miracles and supposedly achieved a higher moral state than the average Joe or Jane. Within Protestant thinking,
saint
isn’t often used to describe an individual Christian. We appear more comfortable with the terms
believer, Christian,
or
saved person.
In fact, we’d even describe ourselves as
sinners,
although we’re quick to tack on the phrase
saved by grace.

The term
saint
(meaning “holy one” or “one reserved, set apart, for God”) is hard to swallow for many. Likewise, to actually use the term
righteous
to describe ourselves is sometimes seen as the epitome of arrogance. But these are precisely the terms that God uses to describe those who are in Christ. How can he be comfortable using these words while being fully aware of our shortcomings and failures? To answer this question, we have to take a deeper look at the idea that birth determines identity. And along the way I think we’ll discover some amazing things about who we are.

In my growing-up days, we lived on a horse farm in northern Virginia. And we only had one close neighbor, the Rectors. There
were four boys in the Rector family, and I really enjoyed spending time with them. We’d ride horses, go fishing, and race around the farm on ATVs.

Two Rector boys were older than I was, and I looked up to them. They were cool, and I felt privileged to tag along with them wherever they went. I found myself dressing like the Rectors, combing my hair like them, even talking and acting like them. Nearly every day, I’d go over to their house, eat lunch with them, play with their dog, Skipper, and throw the football in their yard. It
felt
as though I were a Rector.

Reality would set in, however, any time there was a family reunion or gathering. I wouldn’t get an invitation. Although I could look, talk, and act like a Rector, I wasn’t a Rector by birth. My birth certificate will always say
Farley.
Even if I were to somehow arrange for adoption as a Rector, I wouldn’t really be a member of the Rector bloodline. Why? Because birth determines identity.

You can probably see the parallel with our spiritual identity. When we show up on planet Earth, our birth certificate reads
Adam’s family.
Not to be confused with the wardrobe-challenged family from TV,
Adam’s family
here means we’re born in Adam. Because of our natural birth into his bloodline, we’re spiritually dead by birth and by nature.

The fall of Adam and Eve occurred
before
they gave birth to Cain, Abel, Seth, and other children. So just as Cain had Dad’s nose and Abel had Mom’s eyes, the kids also inherited
spiritual
genetics. The long-term result was a race of humans who were spiritually dead at birth, beginning with the very first descendants.

No matter what we do, we cannot make ourselves spiritually alive, any more than I could make myself a Rector. We can bring about reform in our behavior, but no effort of any kind will remove us from Adam’s spiritual bloodline and place us in Christ’s.

Although Adam himself was created in God’s image, Genesis reveals that Adam’s children were born in Adam’s own image:

When God created man, he made him in the likeness of God. He created them male and female and blessed them. And when they were created, he called them “man.”

When Adam had lived 130 years, he had a son
in his own likeness, in his own image.

G
ENESIS
5:1-3 NIV, italics added

The contrast here seems clear. Adam was made in the likeness of God, but Adam’s son was born in Adam’s own likeness. And then the writer repeats:
in his own image.
So according to Scripture, are we born in the image of God? It’s true that, after salvation, we are re-created in Christ Jesus and are being renewed in his image (Colossians 3:10). But originally, we are descended from Adam, the first man.

At birth, we bear
Adam’s
image. Earlier, I asked how many sins it takes to become a sinner. The answer is
zero,
since we’re born as sinners. But in a sense, it does take one sin for us to become sinners. However, that one sin was not committed by us. Romans 5 reveals that one man’s sin brought the following effects:

• sin entered the world (verse 12)
  
• the many died (verse 15)
  
• condemnation came on all people (verse 18)
  
• the many were made sinners (verse 19)
  

Adam’s spiritual death caused all of his descendants to be born spiritually dead. Adam’s sin brought condemnation on us all. And Adam’s sin earned each of us the title
sinner.
Our spiritual state
stems from
our lineage in Adam,
not from what we individually are doing.

Just as I imitated the Rector family, I could try to imitate Jesus Christ for the rest of my life. But even the most rigid conformity to Christ-like behavior wouldn’t place me in his spiritual bloodline. I am who I am by birth, not by behavior.

Realizing that it’s all about birth, not behavior, is illuminating. It brings new meaning to that often misused and even abused term
born again.
This phrase is so frequently uttered that many have lost sight of its true meaning; however, in light of our spiritual bloodline at birth, we can understand why Jesus used the term.

Jesus told Nicodemus that each human being’s real need is to be born a second time. He wasn’t urging the Jewish leader to turn over a new leaf, to try harder, or to polish his lifestyle. Instead, he was addressing the heart of the matter, namely, birth. While some regard Christianity as a behavior improvement program dressed up in religious clothing, Jesus revealed that God’s plan was actually an exchange of nature.

Since our problem stems from lineage, the solution also relates to lineage. If we are in Adam at birth, we must be in Someone else for genuine change to occur: “As
in Adam
all die, so
in Christ
all will be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:22, italics added).

Everyone is
in
someone spiritually. When a person becomes a Christian, he or she isn’t simply adopting certain doctrines. Nor is he or she merely being awarded entrance into heaven. On the very day that someone places faith in the work of Christ, he or she undergoes surgery. He may not comprehend it; she may not
feel it. But although the surgery is spiritual, it’s no less real than a medical procedure.

At salvation, we’re hoisted out of the lifeline of Adam and transferred into the lifeline of Christ. Our spiritually dead DNA is miraculously extracted, and new, living DNA is inserted into our spirits. We become part of a new family.

We’re no longer
in
the flesh.

We’re
in
the Spirit.

This surgery carries all kinds of implications for who we really are, what we’re designed for, and what fulfills us at the deepest level of personhood.

M
ANY YEARS AGO, MY MOTHER COLLECTED
R
USSIAN MATRYOSHKA
dolls. If you’re familiar with these dolls, you know there’s more to them than meets the eye. Made of wood, these dolls are cut across the middle so that when you pull off the top half, it opens to reveal a smaller doll inside. When you take out and open the next doll, you find an even smaller doll inside. This continues, of course, until the last, smallest doll is revealed. Looking at the largest doll from the outside, you’d never guess what’s inside.

Because each doll is inside a larger doll, what happens to one doll happens to the others. If you lift the doll up and place it on a shelf, all the other dolls inside are raised up as well. If you dispose of the doll in a fire, the dolls inside are also burned.

Matryoshka dolls help me understand what it means to be
in
Christ. The Bible tells us that we’re “hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3). I imagine most of us don’t think much about what it means to be hidden in God. But the Scriptures emphasize our being
in
Christ about six times more often than the fact that Christ is in us. Obviously, this is an important truth that God wants us to grasp.
Paul tells the Corinthians and the Colossians of this spiritual transfer of our selves into Christ:

It is because of [God] that you are
in Christ Jesus,
who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption.

1 C
ORINTHIANS
1:30, italics added

He rescued us from the domain of darkness, and transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son.

C
OLOSSIANS
1:13 NASB

It was God who changed our spiritual location. He transported us from a position in Adam to a place within Christ. Because of our original position in Adam, we were like Adam. Through our new location in Christ, we become like Christ. We are spiritually alive and righteous.

So how exactly did we leave behind who we used to be and become so different on the inside? Let’s turn our attention to the surgery that forever changed our spiritual DNA.

We’re acquainted with the crucifixion and burial of Jesus Christ.

After all, they’re historical events. But it’s an altogether different matter to realize that
we ourselves
were spiritually crucified and buried with him.

The moment we enter into Christ at salvation, our old self is obliterated. This takes place as God kills off the old self through a miraculous, timeless surgery. We’re crucified with Christ:

Don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death…For we know that
our old self was crucified with him
…

R
OMANS
6:3-4a, 6a, italics added

As amazing as it is to be crucified with Christ, it’s not enough! God goes further as he resurrects us from the dead and seats us at his right hand with Christ: “God
raised us up with Christ
and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:6, italics added).

For a short time, Jesus Christ walked as one of us in the likeness of sinful flesh. But today he’s seated in heaven with God. And we’re joined to him! We’re not merely joined to the earth-walking Messiah who was temporarily lower than the angels. We’re joined to the
risen
Christ.

Sometimes we see ourselves as sinners in the loving arms of a God who is pretending not to see us as we really are. In our minds, maybe God is wearing a pair of “Jesus glasses” that hides our true state from his vision. We find it difficult to grasp the idea that God calls us righteous
because we actually are righteous.
It feels more humble to believe that we’re filthy worms awaiting a future change into beautiful butterflies.

Jesus stated it best. He said that our righteousness must surpass that of the Pharisees in order to enter the kingdom (Matthew 5:20). So if we Christians don’t claim to possess perfect righteousness, we’re lowering God’s standard. We’re watering down the gospel. We insinuate that Jesus can unite himself with sin. And we insult the perfection of God.
Only perfection will do. This is precisely why God had to make us perfectly righteous in our human spirits through our own death, burial, and resurrection. With its apparent humility, this filthy worm theology appeals to the flesh. But God certainly doesn’t condone our wallowing in a poor self-image.

The risen Christ doesn’t join himself to filthy worms. The
Holy
Spirit doesn’t dwell in dirty sinners. Christ only unites himself with those who are like him in spirit. The Holy Spirit doesn’t reside in someone who remains even 1 percent flawed by sin.

But we’ve been perfectly cleansed. And we’ve been made perfectly righteous at our core through spiritual surgery. This is the only way we can enjoy even a moment of relationship with Jesus Christ.

Some see Christianity as a movement or campaign. We observe people behaving according to certain patterns and influencing others to do the same. In some ways, we fail to acknowledge that the gospel isn’t
centrally
about behavior modification. At its core, the true message is about dying and miraculously being resurrected into a new person.

Sure, life in Christ has implications for behavior. But we can’t afford to miss the
death
and
life
issues because we’re obsessed with the effects rather than the cause. Describing the core of the message, Paul writes the following:

For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.

C
OLOSSIANS
3:3-4

In college, a friend and I went around in circles for hours as we discussed issues such as grace and faith. For some reason, we simply couldn’t see eye to eye on spiritual matters.

After we had carried on for some time, I finally said, “I don’t really know how to explain it. But the real thing isn’t about trying hard to act differently. Becoming a Christian is like dying and waking up the next day as a totally new person.” With those words, we ended the conversation. A short time later, I headed to Greece and Italy for a study-abroad program and didn’t see my friend for nearly six months.

A few days after my return to campus, my friend approached me and said, “Hey, I finally understood what you meant.”

“Meant about what?” I asked, having forgotten about our conversation.

“You know, about dying and becoming a new person. One night, I began thinking about how you had described things. So I prayed and asked God to kill me and make me a new person.”

“God, kill me” isn’t your typical salvation prayer. But for six months, the words I had selected out of sheer desperation had remained with my friend. And one day he chose to act on them. In the end, it wasn’t any of my finetuned and carefully honed arguments that penetrated my friend’s heart. It was one central truth—the need to die and become new. This was his most pressing need, and this was what God used to reach him.

Death and new life are at the core of the gospel.

People who place their faith in Christ undergo a miraculous exchange at the center of their being. Who they were in Adam is no longer there. They become a new person, a child of God who is
in
Christ.

The key event causing this exchange is a death, burial, and resurrection with Christ. This miraculous exchange is not figurative or symbolic but
literal
and
actual.
The spiritual part of every Christian has
literally
and
actually
been crucified, buried, and raised with Christ. The fact that this occurs spiritually (and not physically) doesn’t make it any less real.

So what happens to the old self that was in Adam? Once a person is in Christ, the old self is entirely obliterated. Therefore, an obvious question arises:
If my old self is dead and gone, why do I still sin?

This isn’t a new question. Believers in the early church asked the same thing. Thankfully, the same apostle who informs us that our old self is dead also provides solid answers about why we still struggle with sin.