Eucharistic witness of the early fathers, part 1...

There's been quite a bit of debate going on over at The White Horse Inn Blog, both Here and Here, between Roman Catholics and Reformed Protestants.  Things have centered on the authority of Scripture, the place of tradition, the so-called infallibility of the teachings of the Roman Church, etc.  Some of the discussion have touched on the nature of the sacrament of the Lord' Supper.  I initially shared some thoughts on that in the earlier post Reformed and Catholic Eucharist.  I thought I'd add some additional snippets from one of the only two books the reformer and Arch-Bishop of the Church of England, Thomas Cranmer, wrote.  This book directly takes on the Roman view, which Cranmer argues is not consistent with Scripture nor with the early church fathers.

I'm under no illusions that what's posted here will convince someone who holds Rome's teachings to change their mind, and that's not my intention.  Yet not only Scripture, but early "tradition" seems to offer more than a few counter currents to be overcome by one contemplating a swim across the Tiber.  At a minimum Cranmer highlights a number of inconvenient historical nuggets mined from the early (and even later) church fathers.

Below are a few examples regarding the nature of the Lord's Supper that Thomas Cranmer, in his Defence of the True and Catholic Doctrine of the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ (1550) presents. Which book, by the way, was the principle work used against him by the Roman Church in order to convict him of heresy and burn him at the stake under Queen Mary.

This Irenaeus followeth the sense of Justinus wholly in this matter, saying, "that the bread wherein we give thanks to God, although it be of the earth, yet when the name of God is called upon, it is not then common bread, but the bread of thanksgiving, having two things in it, one earthly, and the other heavenly."  What meant he by the heavenly thing, but the sanctification which cometh by the invocation of the name of God?  And what by the earthly thing, but the very bread, which, as he said before, is of the earth, and which also, he saith, doth nourish our bodies, as other bread doth which we use?

Of Chyrsostom he writes:

And yet more plainly St Chrysostome declareth this matter in another place, saying:  "The bread, before it be sanctified, is called bread; but when it is sanctified by the means of the priest, it is delivered from the name of bread, and is exalted to the name of the Lord's body, although the nature of the bread doth still remain."

"The nature of bread," saith he, "doth still remain," to the utter and manifest confutation of the papists, which say that the accidents of bread do remain, but not the nature and substance.

Of Augustine he quotes:

 "The sacrifice of the Church consiteth of two things, of the visible kind of element, and of the invisible flesh and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ; both of the sacrament, and of the thing signified by the sacrament:  even as the person of Christ consisteth of God and man, forasmuch as he is very God and very man.  For everything containeth in it the very nature of those things whereof it consisteth.  Now the sacrifice of the Church consisteth of two things, of the sacrament, and of the thing thereby signified, that is to say, the body of Christ.  Therefore there is both the sacrament, and the thing of the sacrament, which is Christ's body."

Cranmer, like the continental Reformers, understood that the preaching of the word and the two sacraments of Baptism and the Supper as doing the same thing but in different ways.  Their commonality is in the spiritual nourishment they provide to the Lord's people by means of the gospel of Christ and the role that faith plays in both.  He writes:

And although our carnal generation and our carnal nourishment by known to all men by daily experience and by our common senses; yet this our spiritual generation and our spiritual nutrition be so obscure and hid unto us, that we cannot attain to the true and perfect knowledge and feeling of them, but only by faith, which must be grounded upon God's most holy word and sacraments.

And for this consideration our Saviour Christ hath not only set forth these things most plainly in his word, that we may hear them with our ears; but he hath also ordained one visible sacrament of spiritual regeneration in water, another visible sacrament in bread and wine, to the intent that , as much as is possible for man, we may see Christ with our eyes, smell him at our nose, taste him with our mouths, grope him with our hands, and perceive him with all our senses.  For as the word of God preached putteth Christ into our ears; so likewise the elements of water, bread, and wine, joined to God's word, do after a sacramental manner put Christ into our eyes, mouths, hands, and all our senses. 

 In Part 2 I'll follow up with more excerpts from the early writers as well as some of later periods that provide additional historical witness to the fact that tradition is far from being unified behind Rome on this matter.

Active Obedience - Imputed Righteousness

Tullian Tchividjian's recent post, Cheap Law, at Gospel Coalition sparked quite a debate regarding the relationship of Jesus' perfect obedience and suffering and the righteousness that is imputed to believers through faith.  Not a few think that Christ's forgiveness of sins is alone the basis for the righteousness counted toward his people.  And that that righteousness isn't Christ's imputed but that which comes to us based on forgiveness and being united to Christ.  I chimed in to the vigorous debate and, as is the often the case, I don't think any minds were changed one way or the other.  But to carry on the argument I was making, here is an excerpt from an article, A More Perfect Union - Justification and Union with Christ,  by John Fesko.  It can be read in its entirety at Modern Reformation:

The Reformed tradition bases the doctrine of the imputed righteousness of Christ, even his active obedience, on such passages as Romans 5:12-21 (WCF 6.3, 11.1; cf. Heidelberg Catechism, Q/A 60). Why, for example, does Paul contrast the disobedience of Adam with the obedience of Christ? Paul writes, "For as by the one man's disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man's obedience the many will be made righteous" (Rom. 5:19). As John Murray explains, "The parallel to the imputation of Adam's sin is the imputation of Christ's righteousness. Or to use Paul's own terms, being 'constituted sinners' through the disobedience of Adam is parallel to being 'constituted righteous' through the obedience of Christ." Clearly, Romans 5:19 restates what Paul has stated in the previous verse: "Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all" (Rom. 5:18).

There is no mistaking the parallel between Christ's obedience, which is righteousness, and the imputation of this righteousness to the believer. Commenting on the abiding significance of Genesis 15:6 and the imputation of righteousness, Paul writes: "That is why his faith was 'counted to him as righteousness.' But the words 'it was counted to him' were not written for his sake alone, but for ours also. It will be counted to us who believe in him who raised from the dead Jesus our Lord" (Rom. 4:22-24). Note here the English Standard Version translates the Greek word logizomai as "counted," which the King James Version translates as "imputed." Here Paul taps into the ancient stream of the special revelation of the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Bible, to argue for the imputed righteousness of Christ, and arguably also has other passages such as Isaiah 53 in mind when writing these things: "Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities" (Isa. 53:11; cf. 2 Cor. 5:19-21).

And Charles Spurgeon eloquently makes the case for the indispensable connection between Jesus Christ's perfect obedience and his righteousness imputed to us:

The promises in the Word of God are not made to suffering; they are made to obedience. Consequently, Christ’s sufferings, though they may remove the penalty of sin, do not alone make me the inheritor of the promise. “If You will enter into life,” said Christ, “keep the commandments” (Matthew 19:17). It is only Christ’s keeping the commandments that entitles me to enter life. “The Lord is well pleased for his righteousness’ sake; he will magnify the law, and make it honorable” (Isaiah 42:21). I do not enter into life by virtue of His sufferings – those deliver me from death, those purge me from filthiness; but entering the enjoyments of the life eternal must be the result of obedience. As it cannot be the result of mine, it is the result of His, which is imputed to me….See what Christ has done in His living and His dying, His acts becoming our acts and His righteousness being imputed to us, so that we are rewarded as if we are righteous, while He was punished as though He had been guilty.
Justification then comes to sinners as an act of pure grace, the foundation of it being Christ’s righteousness. The practical way of its application is by faith. The sinner believes God and believeth that Christ is sent of God. [He] takes Christ Jesus to be his only confidence and trust; and by that act, he becomes a justified soul. It is not by repenting that we are justified, but by believing; it is not by deep experience of the guilt of sin; it is not by bitter pangs and throes under the temptations of Satan; it is not by mortification of the body, nor by the renunciation of self; all these are good, but the act that justifieth is a look at Christ. We, having nothing, being nothing, boasting of nothing, but being utterly emptied, do look to Him Whose wounds stream with the life-giving blood. As we look to Him, we live and are justified by His life. There is life in a look at the crucified One—life in the sense of justification.

Reformed and Catholic Eucharist...

The Reformed tradition accepts the four councils of Nicea,  Constantinople, Ephesus 1, and Chalcedon.  In his 1559 edition of Institutes of the Christian Religion, John Calvin wrote:

… we willingly embrace and reverence as holy the early councils, such as those of Nicaea, Constantinople, Ephesus I, Chalcedon, and the like, which were concerned with refuting errors-in so far as they relate to the teachings of faith. For they contain nothing but the pure and genuine exposition of Scripture, which the holy fathers applied with spiritual prudence to crush the enemies of religion who had then arisen.

The ecumenical council at Ephesus in 431, regarding the Lord's Supper, stated in part:

Proclaiming the death according to the flesh of the only begotten Son of God, that is Jesus Christ, and professing his return to life from the dead and his ascension into heaven, we offer the unbloody sacrifice in the churches and so proceed to the mystical thanksgivings and are sanctified having partaken of the holy flesh and precious blood of Christ, the saviour of us all. This we receive not as ordinary flesh, heaven forbid, nor as that of a man who has been made holy and joined to the Word by union of honor, or who had a divine indwelling, but as truly the life-giving and real flesh of the Word. For being life by nature as God, when he became one with his own flesh, he made it also to be life-giving, as also he said to us [in John 6:52]: “Amen I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood” .

Roman Catholics read transubstantiation and a misunderstanding of “sacrifice” into the Ephesus 431 quote and thereby judge that Reformed Protestant worship is not catholic, i.e. that the Reformed churches reject the council's teaching.  But that is not the case.  Looking to the Church of England’s Holy Communion service as found in the 1662 BCP (still in use) to help clarify the right understanding of this mystery one finds:

WE do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. But thou art the same Lord, whose property is always to have mercy: Grant us therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ, and to drink his blood, that our sinful bodies may be made clean by his body, and our souls washed through his most precious blood, and that we may evermore dwell in him, and he in us. Amen.

THE Body of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was given for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life. Take and eat this in remembrance that Christ died for thee, and feed on him in thy heart by faith with thanksgiving.

THE Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was shed for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life. Drink this in remembrance that Christ’s Blood was shed for thee, and be thankful.

The Reformed confession of the Church of England further explains the nature of the sacrament: 
 The Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion; Art. 28:

THE Supper of the Lord is not only a sign of the love that Christians ought to have among themselves, one to another, but rather it is a sacrament of our redemption by Christ’s death: insomuch that to such as rightly, worthily, and with faith receive the same, the bread which we break is a partaking of the body of Christ, and likewise the cup of blessing is a partaking of the blood of Christ.
Transubstantiation (or the change of the substance of bread and wine) in the Supper of the Lord, cannot be proved by Holy Writ, but is repugnant to the plain words of Scripture, overthroweth the nature of a Sacrament, and hath given occasion to many superstitions.
The body of Christ is given, taken, and eaten in the Supper, only after an heavenly and spiritual manner. And the mean whereby the body of Christ is received and eaten in the Supper is Faith.

 The Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper was not by Christ’s ordinance reserved, carried, about, lifted up, or worshipped.

  
My reading of the Ephesus Council quote:

We “offer the unbloody sacrifice in the churches…” i.e. the Sacrament of the Supper (which proclaims Christ’s sacrifice on the cross) is offered to the believers in the churches as real spiritual food for the soul’s nourishment. Note the word “unbloody”, i.e. not corporeal blood. In the same way, in preaching the Gospel, the “sacrifice of Christ is offered” for forgiveness of sins to all that hear it and believe.

This we receive not as ordinary flesh, heaven forbid, nor as that of a man who has been made holy and joined to the Word by union of honor, or who had a divine indwelling, but as truly the life-giving and real flesh of the Word.

Note: “not as ordinary flesh”… in other words not actual physical flesh as one ordinarily would understand… “heaven forbid” i.e. put away the thought that this is physical flesh of a real man, even one “joined to the Word by union of honor.”

Jesus explains to his disciples after their confusion and the objections raised by many of the listens to the words of John 6:52 quoted in Ephesus 431:

61 But Jesus knowing in himself that his disciples murmured at this, said unto them, Doth this cause you to stumble?
62 What then if ye should behold the Son of man ascending where he was before?
63 It is the spirit that giveth life; the flesh profiteth nothing: the words that I have spoken unto you are spirit, are are life.

Thus we receive the body and blood of Christ in the Supper by faith “only after an heavenly and spiritual manner.” (39 Articles. 28)

The only sacrifice offered to God by the clergy or the people is expressed in the final prayer of the Holy Communion in the 1662 BCP service:

“O LORD and heavenly Father, we thy humble servants entirely desire thy fatherly goodness mercifully to accept this our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving; most humbly beseeching thee to grant, that by the merits and death of thy Son Jesus Christ, and through faith in his blood, we and all thy whole Church may obtain remission of our sins, and all other benefits of his passion. And here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice unto thee; humbly beseeching thee, that all we, who are partakers of this holy Communion, may be fulfilled with thy grace and heavenly benediction. And although we be unworthy, through our manifold sins, to offer unto thee any sacrifice, yet we beseech thee to accept this our bounden duty and service; not weighing our merits, but pardoning our offences, through Jesus Christ our Lord; by whom, and with whom, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, all honour and glory be unto thee, O Father Almighty, world without end. Amen.” 

Jayber Crow and the Gospel...

On page 321 of Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry, Jayber opines:

I am, maybe, the ultimate Protestant, the man at the end of the Protestant road, for as I have read the Gospels over the years, the belief has grown in me that Christ did not come to found an organized religion but came instead to found an unorganized one.  He seems to have come to carry religion out of the temples into the fields and sheep pastures, onto the roadsides and the banks of rivers, into the houses of sinners and publicans, into the town and the wilderness, toward the membership of all that is here.  Well, you can read and see what you think.

 This got me to thinking (uh oh!).  Jesus Christ came into the world and, as Jayber said, carried religion into the houses of publicans and sinners.  Jesus didn't hole up in the temple and require those in need of a physician to make the trek to him.  As the Charles Wesley hymn says,

He left his Father's throne above (so free, so infinite his grace!), emptied himself of all but love, and bled for Adam's helpless race.

And an amazing thing happened on that day when Jesus died on the cross.  As Matthew 27: 50-51 puts it:

And Jesus cried again with a loud voice, and yielded up his spirit.  And behold, the veil of the temple was rent in two from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake...

"The veil of the temple was rent in two."  The barrier between holy God and sinful man had been removed.  The immeasurable chasm had been bridged.  Something new had indeed been accomplished which could be termed a new religion.  And this new religion was the fulfillment of the old religion, and yet it was different.  How so?  The tearing of the veil opened the way, the access to God, by the shed blood of Jesus.  The old religion called sinners to the temple in order to obtain forgiveness and acceptance through required and specific blood sacrifices.  The new religion went forth out of the temple, through the rent veil, into the world in the power of Christ crucified.  Christ would still go out among the sinners and publicans, into the towns and wilderness where people live, yet not in his human form but via his Spirit-empowered message.

Christianity, at its core, is a religion that goes forth and declares a message of good news to sinners.  It's the message that changes everything (the earth did quake) for the guilty and the condemned, for the heavy burdened and the bruised reeds.  Rather than a religion of God's legal and moral requirements that man must approach and satisfy, it is God coming to those who have fallen short of those very requirements (and continue to do so on a daily basis) with the free offer of his gracious salvation through Christ's satisfaction.  It is a religion meant to go forth continually in our churches as the declarative refrain of pardon, mercy, and righteousness in Christ to the sinner, believer and non-believer.  It's the intended message of the preached Word and the Lord's Supper - to be heard, received, and trusted in by his followers, for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek (Rom. 1:16).  It is the faith-building gospel message that strengthens wearied believers as they continue to battle the world, the flesh, and the devil:

Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holy place by the blood of Jesus,
by the way which he dedicated for us, a new and living way, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh; and having a great priest over the house of God;
let us draw near with a true heart in fulness of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience: and having our body washed with pure water,
let us hold fast the confession of our hope that it waver not; for he is faithful that promised:
and let us consider one another to provoke unto love and good works; (Heb. 10:19-23)

I'd like to think that Jayber would agree, but you'll have to ask him...

Christianity and Liberalism, a short review...

Christianity and Liberalism by J. Gresham Machen

When J. Gresham Machen wrote Christianity and Liberalism (152 pages) in 1923 it was more than just a straightforward presentation of biblical Christianity. It was an expose´ of the liberal doctrinal drift in the Presbyterian Church. And, it was a clarion call for a return to the centrality of the “message” of the gospel as that which uniquely makes the Church Christian. When Machen published this little but powerful book it was received by many as controversial. He not only took issue with those who were distancing themselves from historic Christianity, but he defined their liberal teachings as “another religion,” fundamentally different from the true Christian faith. It was a doctrinal call-to-arms and his message remains not only relevant today, but necessary.

The book is divided into six chapters: Doctrine, God and Man, The Bible, Christ, Salvation, and The Church. Machen defines Christianity not as a moral way of life, an experience of God, or a means of the betterment of man. Rather, Christianity is about an event, something that happened in history. And it is about the meaning of that event. Throughout the book, Machen reinforces the good news that Jesus died to save sinners as the essence of the religion of the Bible.

Machen, as did the Reformers, calls men and women back to the message of Paul and the other apostles.  It is the liberating message of the “blessed gospel of the Cross” which announces that God saves the ungodly apart from any works of their own. Indeed, it is by His grace alone through faith alone in our Savior Christ Jesus that we are both found and kept. Those who take the time to read Christianity and Liberalism will find clarity and comfort in Machen’s words as well as a convincing case for “another Reformation in God’s good time.”

Church banners...

Here's what I think would make a great banner to hang out in front of a church.  Granted, it's too long, but it beats most of the trite sayings or verses that one usually sees... maybe just the first sentence?


Therefore my faithful request and admonition is that you join our company and associate with us, who are real, great, and hard-boiled sinners.  You must by no means make Christ to seem paltry and trifling to us, as though He could be our Helper only when we want to be rid from imaginary, nominal, and childish sins.  No, no!  That would not be good for us.  He must rather be a Savior and Redeemer from real, great, grievous, and damnable transgressions and iniquities, yea, from the very greatest and most shocking sins; to be brief, from all sins added together in a grand total.
-from Martin Luther's letter to Spalatin.

Law - Gospel - Law...

Not only the content of preaching, but the order of the content is important... indispensable.  J. Gresham Machen, in Christianity and Liberalism, wrote,

The consciousness of sin was formerly the starting-point of all preaching, but today it is gone... Christianity is the religion of the broken heart.... it begins with the consciousness of sin.  Without the consciousness of sin, the whole gospel will seem to be an idle tale. (pp. 56-57)

How often is the first use of the Law employed in a sermon to impress upon believers an awareness of God's holiness, his just demands, and how far they have fallen short due to their very real sin?  Machen, it seems, would say that if the gospel is to have its intended effect as Good News, then it is necessary for a consciousness of sin, the bad news, to precede that of the free mercy in Christ Jesus offered to undeserving sinners.

Likewise if the third use of the law (admonishing and directing grateful believers in a righteous direction for living) is preached without first presenting the message of the Law, followed by the proclamation of the gospel - Jesus as the One who died and bore the penalty of our falling short, raised from the dead for our justification (his righteous obedience credited to us) - then, rather than directing and guiding, it takes on a subtle, foreboding tone of demand for obedience.

This often occurs when the Law - God's demand for holiness and his condemnation of sin - and the Gospel - God's remedy in the provision of a Savior for sinners - are assumed in a sermon.  They may be implicitly mentioned, but not explicitly proclaimed as God's two words in Scripture that are the foundation of the redemptive story.  But my people already know the teaching that they're sinners and that Jesus died for them!  So then, sermons that bypass Law and Gospel message are often reduced to biblical admonitions to obey and trust sprinkled with promises of God's grace and faithfulness. The intention is to encourage believers to live in a manner worthy of their Lord.  And yet the message too often received is a sermon-exhortation of soft law-demands.
-- 

Gospel and third use of the law...

What about preaching and the 3rd use of the law? Whatever your thoughts, can we not let the final word of the sermon be the comfort of the gospel for the sheep as they head out into their week? Too often the sermon's 3rd-use-of-the-law exhortation given by preachers as the final word, subtly or not, clouds the good news that (hopefully) was just given. I think this is due, in part, to the fact that we sheep most naturally hear with ears of law and merit-works and not faith with gratitude. Also, it's partially due to the preacher's desire to get practical and make application of the sermon through appeals to responsibility and faithfulness. The law is just so practical.   

But the admonition of law, as it's sometimes presented, unfortunately can turn the believer back onto himself as he looks to find the resolve and faithfulness necessary to respond.  What lurks just underneath the earnest desire of that believer to obey is the uncomfortable knowledge that his obedience just doesn't measures up. Simply read of Paul's experience as a Christian in Romans 7.  Yet, isn't the good news that... we no longer need to measure up?  Indeed, our daily falling short, instead of being the mark of our disqualification, is declared to be our continuing qualification for forgiveness and acceptance by God - without any accompanying deserving works.  There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:1).

Jesus' shed blood cleanses the failed works of his people - and his perfect life lived, credited to their persons, measures up in every way.  It is that free and unmerited grace of God in Christ that remains - daily, yearly, and eternally - irrevocably effective.  And the means of knowing and re-knowing that amazing grace is found and held, as always, through simple trust in Him.
So, I would propose that the last word from the pulpit, after the final admonition, be that the preacher bathe the saints once again in the free mercy of God found only in the news that Jesus died to save sinners.  That is the sermon application that is always necessary, effectual, and practical for the saints as they go out into the world to live and obey in Christ.

Needed... more grace?

At Old Life, Darryl Hart has a post with this comment of his:

... the way to blur law and gospel is by sneeking grace into the relationship. If the law is gracious (which it is in a sense), then it must be salvific. But then there is Paul’s stop sign, the law is not of faith. Must be a different kind of grace.

What the law-is-gracious crowd forget is that Rome says salvation is entirely gracious — good works and all.   

The language of grace clarifies nothing. In some cases it obscures, as in “grace before the fall.”

This got me to thinking about the thrust of so many sermons that are preached today. Too often when Christian living and good works are exhorted from the pulpit, I hear grace invoked as some kind of seasoning or spice that enables the believer to think, speak, and act as God intends. As in: Jesus died for you sins. You’re now forgiven and have his Spirit. So, relying on the grace that he gives, go out and love your neighbor as yourself… The gospel is functionally reduced to “grace added” and gets presented as a means to an end kind of thing, something given in order that you can do it, i.e. live as God teaches in his law.

But we're not in need of mere renovation by grace.  Our problem is not that we're lacking some missing ingredient with which we could live a holy life.   The gospel isn't an offer of  grace with which to turn our lives around.  Rather, the gospel is God's personal and merciful response to the unyielding verdict of the law.

For as many as are of the works of the law are under a curse: for it is written, Cursed is every one who continueth not in all things that are written in the book of the law, to do them.  Now that no man is justified by the law before God, is evident: for, The righteous shall live by faith; and the law is not of faith; but, He that doeth them shall live in them.  Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become a curse for us; for it is written, Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree: that upon the Gentiles might come the blessing of Abraham in Christ Jesus; that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith. (Gal.3:10-114)

Yet moral law-keeping as that which we can and need to do leads us back in the direction of that curse.  But you'll say, "Jesus has saved us from the curse of the law.  He bore the curse in our place."  Indeed he did!  And yet, too many sermons relegate that good news to the status of a past historical event.  Something to rejoice in and be thankful for, but now it's our turn.  Our job now, it seems, is to depend on present grace supplied in order to get on with the business of moral law-keeping.  But aren't we supposed to live holy lives?  Yes!  But the problem comes in when the implicit (or explicit) understanding is that, redeemed from the curse of the law, we now can live up to the law.  Grace offered is invoked as a means to that end.  If only we trust and believe more, then by grace we can live as we ought...

But there's a problem and the problem is us!  Still sinners, we keep getting in the way of our own renovation project.  Where is one to turn?

Law, Gospel, and Tullian at "the given life"

There's an excellent review of Tullian Tchividjian's little book, Jesus + Nothing = Everything, written by Laura Rosenkranz (who happens to be my daughter) at the given life.  It's a helpful addition to the discussion surrounding this little book, as Laura focuses on the disagreement that some have with Tullian, by unpacking the Law/Gospel distinction:

In Jesus + Nothing = Everything, Tchividjian (in the good company of Calvin, Luther, and many others) makes a clear distinction between the imperative and indicative, the law and the gospel. This distinction is often criticized as if the distinction itself creates an antithesis or an opposition, as if there is embedded in this distinction the further claim of LAW = bad/anti-gospel and GOSPEL = good/ anti-law.

However, the relationship between law and gospel, as understood by those who would insist on a clear distinction between the two, would be better stated as LAW = God's good, righteous and holy standard and GOSPEL = God's free gift of Jesus, the perfect fulfillment of the holy standard.

Laura writes that at the core of the accusation of antinomianism leveled against Tullian is a conflation of Law and Gospel:

Gospel fulfills law, it doesn't replace it or oppose it. What is important is to understand the relationship between these two good things given by God, and not to either conflate them into one thing or set them in opposition to each other. When law and gospel are not understood as distinct from each other, the result is usually a weakened law--a standard that we think we can fulfill, and also a weakened gospel--Jesus plus something (that we do) equals everything. Tchavidjian goes to great lengths to keep law and gospel distinct in his book. 

She sums up near the end of her review:

Clearly, Tchavidjian sees growth in maturity, and struggling against sin as desirable realities in the Christian life. And clearly he upholds God's law as a good guide for Christian living. The accusation that he advocates a kind of anti-nomianism is unfounded, arising from a misunderstanding of the law/gospel distinction and the relationship between resting in the gospel and following God in obedience....

The bottom line of my comments here: I encourage those who would seek a fuller understanding of the gospel and of the freedom they have in Christ to read Jesus + Nothing = Everything. You may just find yourself resting in the gospel a little more fully and struggling toward obedience a little more faithfully.

Read the whole article here.