Although still pleasant and responsive to the greetings of others, Darlene seemed distracted this evening at Bible study. Usually one to draw others into pre-class conversation and laughter, she just smiled at us when she entered. She took a seat and seemed to want to read her workbook rather than join us “early birds” in rehashing the events of our day. Once everyone arrived and the study began, Darlene could not keep her composure any longer. “For as long as I can remember,” she said, “I’ve been sure I was saved. That was the one thing I have held onto all these years—through divorce and family discord. But in Sunday School Roger started talking about predestination. Since then I’ve been wondering—What if I am not saved.” Her voice breaking, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, she turned to me and asked, “Mari Lyn, how do I know that I’m saved?” My heart was breaking for this sweet woman, this woman I had worshiped with, this woman I had studied with, this woman I had served with. My heart was breaking for Darlene, and my blood was boiling at Roger. My blood was boiling at Roger, the Sunday School teacher whose ill-timed and unexplained reference to predestination had burdened Darlene for almost a whole week.
Perhaps that’s how Paul was feeling as he wrote this letter to the Philippians, this congregation he loved, this congregation with whom he worshiped and studied and served. Perhaps his heart was breaking for them in their confusion as they heard new teachers from Jerusalem. Perhaps his blood was boiling at those new teachers who had brought a message of the gospel so different from the one Paul had fervently preached. These new teachers—Judaizers—had burdened the Philippians with stipulations—stipulations that narrowed the gospel. They had burdened the Philippians with pre-requisites. Pre-requisites for claiming God’s gift of grace. These new teachers said that to claim God’s covenant of love, the Philippian Christians had to first acknowledge and claim the covenant between Abraham and God. The visible sign of that covenant was circumcision. According to the Judaizers, before the Philippians (who were all Gentiles) could claim Christ’s grace, they had to be circumcised.
Next, these new teachers said that to claim God’s covenant of grace, the Philippians had to acknowledge and claim the covenant of law mediated by Moses between the Israelites and God. The visible sign of this covenant was the 10 commandments and the ancillary customs and rules which had grown out of observing them. To the gospel Paul had preached, these Judaizers were adding requirements —circumcision, eating kosher, and striving for perfection under the law. With such requirements how was the gospel good news?
Using his pen, Paul strikes back—forcefully. His words preceding our scripture today are “Beware the dogs who mutilate the flesh.” Beware the Judaizers who are telling you Philippians that you have to be circumcised. Paul reminds them that he was born a Jew, circumcised as a baby. Growing up, not only did Paul learn the law of Moses, he zealously upheld it—persecuting those who deviated from it. “Look at me,” Paul says, “I can lay claim to both covenants—Abraham’s and Moses’—yet I count that as garbage, as rubbish. For focusing on these covenants can get in the way of accepting Christ’s freely given gift— Christ’s grace. Paul says, he would have told the Philippians if laying claim to Abraham’s or Moses’s covenants was important.
None of that matters when it comes to the gospel of Jesus Christ. For, the gospel is not about Paul’s pure Jewish pedigree or his impeccable law-keeping resume.
The gospel—the good news—is about Christ and what God has done through Christ.
Paul assures the Philippians, “the good news is that through the faith of Jesus
Christ, God has laid claim on you and you are reconciled with God.”
“Salvation does not rest with us but with God.” (Boring & Craddock, The People’s New Testament Commentary, 620) This is a basic tenet of the Reformation. It is a grounding truth to which we Presbyterians hold. Our salvation does not depend on us. Our salvation does not depend anything we do or don’t do. Our salvation depends on what God does—on what God has done—in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ.
How do I know that I’m saved? Darlene pleaded that night in Bible study. Across the years, in conversations with other people, I’ve heard variations of that question:
To be saved, I’m supposed to believe—believe what? To be saved I’m supposed to do something—do what? To be saved I’m supposed to have faith—what faith? How do I know that I’m saved?
Our salvation, our reconciliation with God does not depend on us. It is all God’s doing. For it is only through the power of the Holy Spirit that we even recognize we need to be reconciled with God. It’s not what we believe or how much we believe. It’s not how strong or weak our faith is. It is only through the power of the Holy Spirit that we have any faith at all. It is not our faith that matters. It is Christ’s faith. Our justification—our being made right with God—comes through Christ’s faithfulness.
Our salvation does not depend on us. It is all God’s doing. It’s not about how well we do or don’t follow the 10 commandments.It’s not about how well we do or don’t follow the Golden Rule. It’s not about how much or how little good we do. For there is nothing we can do to earn reconciliation with our loving creator. That reconciliation, through Christ, is a gift, a freely given gift—grace.
Our salvation does not depend upon us. It is all God’s doing—it is freely given to every single one of us—not just to those of a special race, not just to those of a given gender, not just to those of a particular socio-economic status, not just to those of a certain age.
It is all God’s doing, a gift freely given to each one of us, but we have different experiences. My friend, Anna Sue, grew up in the church. Baptized as an infant, the first language she learned was the language of faith. Her family—loving her into being, caring for her, reading the Bible to her, bringing her to Sunday School and worship—her family enacted God’s love for her. The Bible stories were as familiar to Anna Sue as any family story. Looking back on her life, she cannot name a specific event or time that separates her knowing Christ’s grace from her not knowing it.
It is all God’s doing, a gift freely given to each one of us, but we have different experiences. Unlike Anna Sue, my Daddy could point to a time in his life when God’s love was revealed to him. My Daddy could name a specific time when he realized that Jesus Christ lived, died, and was resurrected in order to bring us into right relationship with God. My Daddy could pinpoint the specific event that led him to respond to this good news with a prayer of thanks and supplication. My Daddy could point to a time when, responding to this gift—this grace—his life was turned around and transformed.
Christ’s grace is freely given to every single one of us—not just to those who grew up in the church and not just to those who have had a conversion experience.
It is all God’s doing, but we experience it differently. And we respond in different ways. Some people claim Christ’s grace cognitively—intellectually understanding the Bible’s message. Some people claim it affectively—feeling peaceful, feeling faithful, feeling assured. Some people claim it physically—perhaps saying, “I knew it in my gut.” All of these are valid ways of claiming Christ’s gift—grace.
How do I know I am saved? Darlene asked that night in Bible study. We know we are saved—not through something we have done or believed. We know we are saved through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. We are saved—not so much from something as for something. It’s not so much that we’re saved from dying and going to hell—although you will hear that if you listen to some folks. We are not saved from death or a fiery eternity after death. We are saved for life. We are saved for abundant life, a life in relationship with our loving creator, a life in relationship with one another.
In accepting Christ’s gift, Christ’s grace, our lives are transformed—perhaps slowly over many years—like Anna Sue’s; or perhaps quickly, overnight—like my Daddy’s. Our lives are transformed. We live—not for ourselves, but for Christ. We live—not focusing inward on our needs and wants and desires—but looking outward at God’s creation and God’s creatures. We live—not serving ourselves but seeking ways to serve others. We live—not grasping—but giving. That’s the kind of life I see Darlene living.
And that’s what Paul is talking about at the end of this passage. He claims Christ’s grace, he trusts God’s love, and he responds in gratitude—living a transformed life, a life as Christ’s disciple.
How do I know that I’m saved, Darlene asked. You, too, may have asked that question.
You are saved—reconciled with God—by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. You are justified, made right with God through Christ’s grace—Christ’s freely given gift. You are saved for life—abundant life, transformed life here and now. You are saved for new life after death. This is the gospel. This is the good news! Will you proclaim it?
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