Blessed Mercy and Emmanuel

“Dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh” (Col. 2:13) is not the most pleasant way to describe someone’s past. This, however, is precisely the diagnosis that Paul gave the believers in Colossae. The Colossians had been sinners against God, deserving His just punishment; and they—like the Ephesians—had been “strangers to the covenants of promise” (Eph. 2:12) in which the Jewish people found hope. In other words, the Colossians needed forgiveness but had no obvious expectation of receiving it. They were as good as dead and in need of a radical intervention.

And yet “you,” Paul adds, “God made alive” (Col. 2:13). The intervention came—not from human beings but from God Himself, who stepped in to correct the problem. The Colossians were not saved by finding religion. They weren’t saved by a new philosophy. They were not saved even by good works. God saved them, forgiving their sins and bringing them to life spiritually.

How did God do this? As Paul goes on, he explains what God has done in three pictures.

The Slate Wiped Clean

Paul begins with the picture of a slate wiped clean, a canceled record of debt—in the words of the King James Bible, “blotting out the handwriting of ordinances that was against us”:

You, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. (Col. 2:13–14)

In Paul’s day, people wrote on papyrus or vellum, and the ink they used was not permanent. It could be wiped away. It was possible to take a sponge and wipe a record clean.

God has a law that is expressed in His Word and reflected on the human conscience—even on the consciences of those who never heard the law (Rom. 2:14–16). Every human, except for Christ, has disobeyed the law and accrued a vast debt of guilt. A day is coming when God will settle the accounts.

But, Paul says to the Colossians, our debt of sin is like an IOU that God takes and tears up. Christ has paid the debt, settled the account, and disposed of the record. And this is what happens for all who believe in Christ and put themselves in His hands. We have no power to clear the debt ourselves, but He will do it for those who come to Him in faith.

The Record Nailed to the Cross

Paul’s second picture recalls the notice that was nailed to the cross when Jesus died, declaring that the reason for His execution was that He was “The King of the Jews”: “This he set aside, nailing it to the cross” (Col. 2:14). In God’s providence, that placard proclaimed that He was dying in the place of the people and for them—and not for Jewish sinners only but for all sinners (Eph. 2:14–16).

Our debt of sin is like an IOU that God takes and tears up.

As Paul says elsewhere, “For our sake God made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21). The believer’s debt is eradicated because on the cross, Jesus Christ paid the debt. He suffered the punishment for our sins, and He allowed us to have all the credit of His own righteousness.

The hymn writer put this eloquently in “It Is Well with My Soul”:

My sin—oh the bliss of this glorious thought!—
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more.¹

The cross, far from being a place of despair and defeat, has become a place of joy and triumph for those who believe. It is there that Jesus took sin on His own shoulders and made it possible for us to receive life and forgiveness through faith.

The Triumph over the Enemy

Finally, Paul offers the picture of victory: “He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him” (Col. 2:15).

Jesus triumphed in the cross. He dealt with the forces of evil arrayed against Him and against God’s people. Satan is an accuser who wants men and women to die in their sins. At the cross, however, he has been struck down. He is not yet annihilated, but he is certainly and irrevocably defeated and humiliated.

The cross, far from being a place of despair and defeat, has become a place of joy and triumph for those who believe.

A Roman triumph was a parade in honor of a victorious general. The general would lead a procession displaying the trophies of his victory, not least of all his vanquished foes, stripped and chained. The people would look on and say, “There’s nothing to fear from those soldiers anymore—not after what our general has done to them.”

That is the picture Paul employs. Christ has won the victory; the forces of evil have been, are being, and will be put to shame. Therefore, the Christian can say,

When Satan tempts me to despair
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look and see Him there
Who made an end of all my sin.²

When we place our faith in Christ, the devil may still lash out at the conscience and accuse us, making us doubt our standing with God. We can say, “My Lord Jesus has wiped the record clean. You cannot accuse me. Christ has paid my debt, He has born my sin, and He has defeated you.” Because for the believer, sins are forgiven, the slate is wiped clean, that old stack of debt has been nailed to the cross, and the enemy has been disarmed.

This is good news! And it is good news for those who will come to Christ in faith, rejecting sin and putting their destiny in His hands. Anyone—male or female, young or old, Jew or gentile—may come to Him and say, “Dear God, thank You for sending Your Son to do for me what I could never do for myself. I admit that I am sinful. I believe that Jesus died in my place. I come with empty hands and a needy heart, and I ask You to transform my life and make me the person You intend for me to be.”

This article was adapted from the sermon “Triumphant Forgiveness” by Alistair Begg.

1. Horatio Gates Spafford, “It Is Well with My Soul” (1873). ↩︎

2. Charitie Lees Bancroft, “Before the Throne of God Above” (1863). ↩︎

A story is told that one year at the Summer Olympics, three men hoped to get into the stadium as spectators: an Englishman, an Irishman, and a Scotsman. Standing outside the stadium with no tickets in hand, the three noticed a construction site nearby and got creative.

Neville Atkinson, the Englishman, found a piece of piping that had been part of the scaffolding. He approached the stadium gate, pipe in hand, and said, “Neville Atkinson, United Kingdom, pole vault.” The gatekeeper responded, “Wonderful, come on in.”

Intrigued, the Irishman, Sean O’Leary, looked around and found a manhole cover. Carrying it under his arm, he reported to the gatekeeper: “Sean O’Leary, Ireland, discus.” “Fine,” he said, “right this way.”

And then there was the Scotsman, a man named Jack MacTavish. Searching for his ticket to entry, he dragged some roles of barbed wire to the gate entrance: “Jack MacTavish, Scotland, fencing.”

This humorous anecdote reminds us that the place and conditions of entry are important—and nowhere more so than at the entry into the kingdom of heaven. The New Testament tells us that much. Jesus, teaching His disciples in Matthew 7, says that we should “enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few” (vv. 13–14).

When Jesus talks about entering by the narrow gate, He has our salvation in view. But what does it look like for a person to obey His instruction and lay hold of eternal life? How can a person be saved?

Conditions of entry are important—and nowhere more so than entry into the kingdom of heaven.

There is probably no better passage to answer this question than Paul’s instruction in Ephesians 2:1–10. Here, the apostle teaches that by nature, we are dead and cannot make ourselves alive; by nature, we are enslaved and cannot free ourselves from the handcuffs of sin; and by nature, we are blind, having no remedy in ourselves to see (vv. 1–3). “But God,” on account of His mercy and love, makes dead men and women spiritually alive. He saves us not because of our works but for good works. Our salvation, Paul stresses, is by grace through faith in Christ (vv. 4–10).

Simply put, Ephesians 2 describes the Christian experience as a personal experience to be laid hold of by repentance and faith. We must be those who enter by the narrow gate. It’s a personal decision for which everyone is responsible.

Objections to Our Need

Ephesians 2:1–10 shows men and women to be in a dire predicament. The apostle Paul states clearly that we need to be saved from our sin—an unpopular truth in today’s economy of ideas, no doubt. In response to biblical teaching, people raise a number of objections.

For example, someone might say, “It’s abhorrent for Christians to suggest that anybody needs to be saved!” This line of thinking argues that people don’t need to get saved because humanity is already on agreeable terms with God. But John, writing in his first letter, responds, “Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life” (5:12).

God saves us not because of our works but for good works.

Others say something like “Won’t I be accepted by God if I simply try my best and clean up my act?” Attend church, be a good neighbor, and pay the bills on time—that’s what the Lord requires, someone says. But like the first objection, this one doesn’t square with Scripture. Isaiah, writing in an earlier time, teaches that even “all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment” before Almighty God (Isa. 64:6). The radiance of God’s purity is so great that even when we are at our best, we still look dirty. 

Plenty of other objections and arguments abound. But better education, social welfare, medical care, etc., do not resolve humanity’s predicament before God. Those things are like bandages, only temporarily covering up the bleeding. But these can never be permanent solutions. Since sin is a personal problem that has spread to all mankind, salvation must be a personal experience.

Personal Repentance and Faith

The only way a person can be saved is by turning from sin and turning to Christ. We are either on the wide path or on the narrow path, to borrow Jesus’ language from Matthew 7. We’re heading toward either everlasting destruction or eternal life. There is no neutrality with Jesus. The call of Christianity is “You are on the broad path that leads to death. Turn around and follow Christ, and there you will find life.”

To repent means to turn from sin. It’s to do an about turn, determining to live in light of Christ and His mercy rather than for self and for our own selfish ends.

The only way a person can be saved is by turning from sin and turning to Christ.

As Ephesians 2:1–3 makes clear, we are by nature going in the wrong direction. Those of us who are honest for more than five minutes know that we’ve turned our backs on God and His design. We aren’t the husbands and wives we ought to be. We aren’t the kinds of employees we ought to be. We think bad thoughts and resent others. In short, we know what it is to sin, because we’re sinners. Jesus calls us to forsake all of that.

Having turned from sin, we then turn toward Christ. Repentance and faith are two sides of the same coin, both part of the one act of conversion. When we turn to Christ, we receive from Him all that He purposes to give us. Jesus died on the cross to take our sin, bearing it Himself so that we might be forgiven. This gift is given to us not because of what we’ve done but on account of what Jesus has done for sinners on Calvary.

In receiving Christ with repentant and faith-filled hearts, we acknowledge Him to be the ruler of our lives. He saves us not to ride along in the back seat of the car but to take the driving seat. We reorient our lives around Him and His priorities, saying no to old friendships and habits that dishonor Him.

Make no mistake: Christianity is a personal matter—but it’s not a private one. To follow Christ on the narrow road is a choice everyone must make. For every one of us, there is a crossroads decision concerning the claims of Christ.

If you’re asking the question “How can I be saved?” you need not overcomplicate it. The same is true if you’re trying to explain the answer to an unbeliever. While not everything in the Bible is easy to understand, the path to eternal life is crystal clear: Turn from sin, and look to Jesus. “The kingdom of God is at hand,” says Jesus; so “repent and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15).

This article is adapted from the sermon “How Can I Be Saved?” by Alistair Begg.

If we are going to stand in the ranks of Christ’s army, we cannot be naive about the battle in which we fight. The same grace that reconciles us to God antagonizes us to the devil.

But God has not left us empty-handed. He has equipped us for the fight. And so we do not dress casually, but we put on the outfit that Paul describes in Ephesians 6: “Take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm” (v. 13).

As Paul said in another place, “the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh” (2 Cor. 10:4)—that is, not things made of cloth or metal to put on our physical bodies. What, then, has God given us for the spiritual battle in which all Christians find themselves engaged?

The Belt of Truth

Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth… (Eph. 6:14)

For the Roman soldier, who was the epitome of military prowess in Paul’s day, the belt was the foundational element of a piece of armor. The other pieces were attached to the belt and were secured by it.

To wear the belt of truth is to recognize the importance of truth in an objective sense: “the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation,” by which the Holy Spirit adopts and seals us (Eph. 1:13). It is God who saves us, and to depart from the Word of Truth delivered to us in the Gospel is to abandon our Commander in Chief, to undermine our faith, and to make useless the whole kit that God has given. 

But there is also a subjective element to truth—that is, our truth telling: “Having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another” (Eph. 4:25). The Christian is not afraid of the truth but brings all things out into the light, where Christ may shine on them and bring newness of life through the Gospel (Eph. 5:13–14).

The Breastplate of Righteousness

… and having put on the breastplate of righteousness… (Eph. 6:14)

The breastplate, secured by the belt, protects the center of the body. For the Christian, righteousness protects us. And as with the belt, there is both an objective and a subjective dimension.

First and foremost, our objective righteousness before the judgment seat of God is the Lord Jesus Christ: “For our sake [God] made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21). In our union with Christ, we have a standing with God that the enemy cannot threaten, and we have no reason to fear the wrath of God.

Subjectively, we are also to live out that righteousness in all our days and all our decisions. If we declare ourselves to be truly in Christ and yet live unrighteous lives, we will be susceptible to every temptation. But what God has done for us in Jesus enables and quickens us to a life that pleases Him, guarding us from the snares of sin.

The Shoes of Readiness

… and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. (Eph. 6:15)

A significant part of the military prowess of Roman armies came down to good footwear. Well-fitted studded boots provided traction, allowed for long marches, and provided an advantage over poorly shod enemies.

The Christians shoes are “the readiness” stirred up by “the gospel of peace.” Isaiah had proclaimed, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news” (52:7). Paul himself was “eager” to preach the Gospel because of the grace and salvation that it brings to those who hear and believe (Rom. 1:15).

Wherever we go, whoever we are, we have an opportunity, in word and deed, to proclaim the Gospel. Having buckled on the truth belt and donned the righteousness breastplate, we cannot neglect the shoes by which we go and proclaim what God has done. No, we are to take on the whole armor and, in so doing, proclaim the Gospel!

The Shield of Faith

In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one… (Eph. 6:16)

Roman soldiers were equipped with a large shield, more than a meter high and nearly a meter wide, which a group of soldiers in formation could use to protect themselves from enemy arrows. Arrows carrying flaming pitch would strike the leather-bound shields and would shortly be extinguished.

The Evil One is an accuser. He fires the flaming darts of false guilt with great rapidity and skill. Yet we can take up faith as our shield as we remind ourselves of the truth that girds us together:

From whence this fear and unbelief?
Hath Thou, O Father, put to grief
Thy spotless Son for me?
And will the righteous Judge of men
Condemn me for that debt of sin
Which, Lord, was charged on Thee?¹

As darts of temptation fly our way, we may “resist …, firm in the faith,” knowing that “the God of all grace … will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish” us (1 Peter 5:9–10). As we set our hope in Christ and the Gospel, we can walk securely in righteousness through His power at work in us.

The Helmet of Salvation

… and take the helmet of salvation… (Eph. 6:17)

The Roman soldier’s helm was cast from bronze or iron. Nothing short of an ax or a hammer could pierce it. It was a source of security for one of the most vulnerable parts of the body.

We have security through the Gospel of Jesus Christ that the devil cannot penetrate. “I give them eternal life,” Jesus promised regarding His disciples in all ages, “and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand” (John 10:28). To know that we are in Christ is to know that we are safe in the hands of the Savior, whatever evil may befall us in this world of trouble (John 16:33).

As we experience the hope offered to us by this promise, we can again resist the Evil One. As Martyn Lloyd-Jones put it,

When you are attacked, besieged, tried, tempted, and the devil says, “There is nothing in it, you might as well get out of it, Christianity makes false promises, it does not fulfil them—give up!”, you answer by saying, “No, I have not been led astray by this teaching. I have always known that there are steps and stages in salvation. I know that I am saved, I know that I am being saved, I know that ultimately I shall be completely saved.”²

The Offensive Weapons

… and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. (Eph. 6:17–18)

Finally, we leave the armor behind, and we come to the offensive elements of spiritual warfare.

The Word of God strikes many people today—much like a medieval sword in a Scottish museum—as historically interesting but practically useless. “Surely,” they say, “you don’t believe that book, do you?” But we do believe it, and we have reasons to trust it. We know that it is “profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work” (2 Tim. 3:16–17). And we remember that the Lord Himself turned to the Scriptures when it came time to counter the enemy’s temptations (Matt. 4:1–11; Luke 4:1–13).

To depart from the Word of Truth is to abandon our Commander in Chief, to undermine our faith, and to make useless the whole kit that God has given.

Paul sets the Word alongside prayer. They always belong together. The devil is unafraid of prayerless proclamation. As Paul himself wrote, “The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life” (2 Cor. 3:6). It is as God speaks to us through the Word that we will find power to overcome the Evil One. The Scriptures are not a talisman with which to ward off evil; they are a tool God has given us to bring us to Him, where we can listen to His voice and draw on His power for a life of faith.

“The Panoply of God”

In one of Wesley’s old hymns we find these lines:

Stand then in His great might,
With all His strength endued,
And take, to arm you for the fight,
The panoply of God.³

A panoply is a full suit of armor, not lacking in any part. If we are to take our stand against the Evil One, we cannot neglect one piece of the kit—not the readiness of the Gospel, not the Word, not prayer, nor any other. We must wear it all so that we may be ready for every offensive that comes our way. We will succeed when we give ourselves over in trust to our faithful God, who by His Spirit guards us for the day of redemption.

This article was adapted from the sermons “The Full Armor of God” and “The Soldier’s Weapons” by Alistair Begg.

1. Augustus Montague Toplady, “From Whence This Fear and Unbelief?” (1772). ↩︎

2. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, The Christian Soldier: An Exposition of Ephesians 6:10 to 20 (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1977), 320. ↩︎

3. Charles Wesley, “Soldiers of Christ, Arise” (1742). ↩︎