What Does “Begotten, Not Made” Mean?

The Greek word translated “only begotten” is monogenēs, a word used five times in the New Testament with reference to Jesus.

Only Begotten Son of the Father

The Nicene Creed confesses that the Lord Jesus Christ is “the only begotten Son of God.” The Greek word translated “only begotten” is monogenēs, a word used five times in the New Testament with reference to Jesus (John 1:14, 18; 3:16, 18; 1 John 4:9).

While most newer translations render the term “only” or “one of a kind,” the King James Version uses “only begotten” in those five Johannine verses. Whatever the proper translation of the word is in each of those five biblical instances, every English translation I’ve ever seen of the Nicene Creed renders the word “only begotten.”

Let’s think about the names “Father” and “Son.” God is Father because he has a Son; Jesus is the Son because he has a Father. That much should be obvious. And the way in which the Father relates to the Son is by “begetting.” The Father generates the Son, and the Son is “from the substance of the Father” (Creed of Nicaea). One thing we can say about the Father that we cannot say about the Son is that the Father is unbegotten. One thing we can say about the Son that we cannot say about the Father is that the Son is begotten.

Okay, but what does that all mean?

The Arians agreed that Jesus Christ was the only begotten Son of God. This specific language wasn’t the issue. The issue was what those words meant. In a letter to Alexander, bishop of Alexandria, Arius explained that God was “the begetter of his only Son before endless ages; through whom he made both the ages and all that is.” Arius would not have objected to saying, as the Nicene Creed does, that Christ was “begotten of his Father before all worlds.” But in the letter to Alexander, Arius also argued that the Son, “timelessly begotten by the Father,” was “created and established before all ages” and “did not exist prior to his begetting.”1 To counter this position, the Nicene Creed made four further statements in definition of “only begotten.”

The Son is “God of God.” The phrase “God of God” is not a superlative like “Holy of Holies” or “King of kings” or “Lord of lords.” The “of” here might better be translated “from,” speaking of derivation. Jesus Christ is God from God, and the fact that God is used in both halves of the formula suggests that the Son is the same kind of God as the God from which he comes. The phrase also communicates that the Son is not a part of God. He is wholly God of wholly God. The generation of the Son does not imply the division of the Godhead or the multiplication of deities.

The Son is God; the Father is God; the Son is of the Father (the Father is not of the Son); and there is only one God. The Son is “Light of Light.” This claim is similar to the last, but not identical. Here we are dealing with a term rather than a title of divine identity. The argument is that if the term light means the same thing with both the Father and the Son, then they must both be of the same essence. The Son is not a different kind of light than the Father. To put it more technically, a property shared in common, with the same meaning in both, signifies a common nature.

The Son is not a lesser light than the Father. The Son is “very God of very God.” This clause is crucial, especially with regard to the Arian controversy. The defenders of Arius might have said that the Son was God of God. They might have affirmed that Jesus Christ was God and that he came from God. They might have affirmed these statements because they reckoned the Son to be a different sort of God than the Father. But the Arians would not have said that the Son is “very God,” for that implies that the Son is no less God than the Father (“very” is an archaic way of saying “truly”). The Word was God—that much was plain from John 1. But for the Arians, the divine Word was a different kind of deity (a created, lesser deity) than the Father. The Nicene Creed will not allow for an Arian misinterpretation of John’s Gospel.

The Son was “not made.” Now we come to the crux of the Nicene argument. There was no way that Arius or his party could possibly defend this assertion. For Arius, one could not be “begotten” unless he was “made” or “created.” Hence, the Nicene Creed is making the all-important affirmation that the Son’s begottenness is not like our begottenness, or not in every respect. The Son’s begottenness is an eternal begottenness. No one created the Son. There never was when the Son was not—not in time and not before time.

A Song to Be Sung

The doctrine of the Son’s begottenness from the Father is called eternal generation. It is a classic and crucial Trinitarian doctrine, but it also a mystery beyond human description. Eternal generation is like human generation in that one essence begets the same essence, but it is unlike human generation in that it does not involve physical reproduction. Eternal generation is hyperphysical (it is outside the physical or material realm), infinite (it does not take place in time), and ineffable (it cannot be fully comprehended). By eternal generation we do not mean that the Father created the Son’s essence, but rather that the Father communicates the essence he shares with the Son.

Nicene orthodoxy teaches us to hold several truths at the same time:

  • The Son is of the same essence as the Father.
  • The Son is to be distinguished from the Father.
  • The Son is of the Father.
  • The Father is never of the Son.

The language of “only begotten” helps explain how all these truths can stand together. The early church thought long and hard about how to explain that the Godhead can consist of multiple persons without there being multiple essences. The Son is equal with the Father because he was eternally begotten of the Father. The Son is also distinct from the Father because he was eternally begotten from the Father. When Jesus says he is in the Father and the Father is in him, he is speaking to the theological reality that the Nicene Creed means to defend (John 14:11). We know that a son is from the “stuff” of his father, and yet a son is not the same as his father, and the father does not come from his son. What we understand intuitively in an earthly sense, the Nicene Creed is trying to explain and safeguard in an eternal and theological sense.

If you find all of this is hard to understand, you are not alone. The most brilliant theologians in history have gladly acknowledged that the doctrine of the Trinity is full of mystery. We are dealing with realities beyond our ability to fully understand or articulate. But mysterious does not mean unreasonable or irrational. It means that we, as finite creatures, do not possess sufficient intellect to fully grasp the infinite. When faced with such glories, it is often wise to think of how we pray and how we sing. Intuitively, led by the Spirit, full of the word, we know that Jesus Christ is to be worshiped just as the Father is to be worshiped. We know, like the earliest Christians knew, that we should sing songs about Jesus and to Jesus.

Think of what we sing at Christmas in that brilliant hymn Adeste Fidelis (“O Come, All Ye Faithful”): “God of God, Light of Light. / Lo, he abhors not the Virgin’s womb. / Very God, begotten, not created.” The Christ child we worship in the manger is none other than “very God of very God,” the only begotten Son who is from the Father but was not created or made by him. Many of us have been reciting Nicene theology since before we could read or write. We know it to be true. We know it to be glorious. We know it to be beautiful. And so we sing.

Notes:

  1. Quoted in Donald Fairbairn and Ryan M. Reeves, The Story of Creeds and Confessions: Tracing the Development of the Christian Faith (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2019), 55–56.

This article is adapted from The Nicene Creed: What You Need to Know about the Most Important Creed Ever Written by Kevin DeYoung.



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The Danger of Self-Assurance: Lessons from the Apostle Peter

Scripture calls us to a measure of confidence. But what happens when that confidence is misplaced or misdirected? In the garden of Gethsemane, Peter’s self-assurance led him to foolishly attack one of the men who came to arrest Jesus—but later that night, he thrice denied even knowing his Lord and Master. In his sermon “A Question for Peter,” Alistair Begg helps us see the danger that can come on the heels of overconfidence:

The Danger of Self Assurance Lessons from the Apostle Peter

Scripture calls us to a measure of confidence. But what happens when that confidence is misplaced or misdirected? In the garden of Gethsemane, Peter’s self-assurance led him to foolishly attack one of the men who came to arrest Jesus—but later that night, he thrice denied even knowing his Lord and Master. In his sermon “A Question for Peter,” Alistair Begg helps us see the danger that can come on the heels of overconfidence:

We saw in our earlier study how Peter was prepared to wield the sword. In that darkened alleyway, if you like—in amongst those trees, in amongst those olive groves, under the covers of darkness—he’s a big, brave man with a sword, ready to confess that Jesus is his Lord and his Master. But now we find his retreat as he doesn’t find it in himself to declare such a brave confession of his allegiance to Jesus, not in the face of the amassed crowd with clubs and swords but with a servant girl at the entryway to the high priest’s court.

He’s impulsive. He’s impetuous by nature. And all of that is revealed in what follows. He loves Jesus, and so he follows him, but when push comes to shove, he was actually afraid to display his colors. He must have thought that he knew himself better than Jesus knew him. We do not know ourselves better than Jesus knows us. “You will deny me,” Jesus said. “But he said emphatically, ‘… I will not deny you’” (Mark 14:34–31). That’s Mark’s version: “He said emphatically, ‘… I will not deny you.’”

Surely a developed sense of self-assurance is a dangerous thing—an unrealistic sense of self-assurance. When we read the Gospels, we see its danger. Indeed, when we read the history of the Bible, we can see it. Uzziah was tremendously effective, a genius of a young man, able militarily, able architecturally. In every way, he was a whiz kid. But you remember how he ended. He wasn’t living in the palace at the end. He was living in a little cottage at the gate. He was leprous. He was separated from the entire company that he had presided over in the early part of his life (2 Chron. 26). What happened to him? The Chronicler tells us, “Uzziah was gloriously helped until he became strong. But when he became strong, he grew proud to his own destruction” (2 Chron. 26:15–16; paraphrased). And here we see the elements of this in Peter.

Stream or Read Alistair’s Latest Sermons 

The Strength of Weakness and the Weakness of Strength

The Calm Before the Cross

When a crowd led by Judas came to the garden of Gethsemane to arrest Him, Jesus—unlike His disciples—didn’t lose His composure. Instead, in both word and deed, He revealed Himself to be at peace and in control. What was the basis for Jesus’ startling serenity in the face of betrayal? In his sermon “‘The Hour Has Come,’” Alistair Begg considers the answer:

The Calm Before the Cross

When a crowd led by Judas came to the garden of Gethsemane to arrest Him, Jesus—unlike His disciples—didn’t lose His composure. Instead, in both word and deed, He revealed Himself to be at peace and in control. What was the basis for Jesus’ startling serenity in the face of betrayal? In his sermon “‘The Hour Has Come,’” Alistair Begg considers the answer:

“Then Jesus said to the chief priests and officers of the temple and elders, who had come out against him”—this is a question by Jesus for the religious opponents—“‘Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs?’” Well, the answer is they have.

Now, the tone in which that question was given we don’t know, because we only have it written down. I wonder if it wasn’t simply Jesus says, “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve really come out here tonight, all set up like this, with all your swords and your clubs and everything, to take me under the cover of darkness? Why did you not come for me when I was out in the temple? I was preaching freely. Everybody could see me and so on. How futile it is!”

What were these people thinking? Were they afraid of Jesus, so they came in numbers? Did they think that if they came in numbers, they could intimidate Jesus? Well, clearly, if they thought that, they discovered very quickly that they couldn’t. Because even in the moment, even in this moment, when he would be regarded from a distance as both the victim and the captive, it is clear that he is neither the victim nor the captive—that there is a serenity about Jesus. There is an absolute calmness and peace in the circumstances, a peace that is not enjoyed by Peter and the rest of them. We know that. We’ve seen that.

And what is the basis of the serenity of Christ? It is that he understands that what he’s doing and where he’s going is according to the Father’s will —all that has taken place that the Scriptures of the prophets have said might be fulfilled. Jesus knew that he was going to die. You say, “Well, everybody knows they’re going to die.” No, he knew that he was going to die in a way that no one else knows they’re going to die. Because Jesus knew that absence from his presence in the world was the reason that he had entered into the world. Jesus knew that he would die a violent death. Jesus knew that he would die a purposeful death. Jesus knew that he would die a vicarious death—i.e., that his death was not a display of love that people should admire and say, “Whoa, that’s a dreadful thing to happen to such a nice person.” No! His death on the cross was in place of sinners. He dies purposefully.

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Easter Recommended Resources

Jesus Is Not Ashamed of Those Who Opposed Him

Were we really enemies of God? And, if so, does God indeed welcome us in the most intimate setting of fellowship with him? I think so.

Once Enemies

“Once Your enemy, now seated at Your table, Jesus, thank You.”1 These words punctuate the chorus of a familiar hymn sung in many churches. As you read these words, which part is more difficult to believe? The fact that you were once an enemy or that in Christ, you are welcome, like family, at God’s table? It depends on how you see yourself and how you think God sees you.

Were we really enemies of God? And, if so, does God indeed welcome us in the most intimate setting of fellowship with him? I think so. The song gets it right. And when we understand this, then things begin to change for us. When we know what we deserve and what God gives us instead, we start to experience increasing gratitude, humility, security, and evangelistic zeal. God is not ashamed of welcoming and identifying with his former enemies. Such people stand out as monuments of his grace.

Theological Framework

Minimizing sin has a dangerous side-effect. It minimizes grace. By downplaying how lost we were, we run the risk of underappreciating how staggering the rescue is. It’s one thing for me to tell you that I got lost in a shopping mall and couldn’t find the way back to where I parked. But it’s quite another matter to be lost in the mountains of Colorado before being dramatically recovered by a mountain rescue unit. When thinking about how sin separates us from God, we have to be clear on the degree of the problem. Otherwise, we risk downgrading the gospel to a friendly volunteer at a kiosk giving directions rather than a breathtaking rescue mission.

The biblical teaching is clear, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23). Every single person who has ever lived, except for the Lord Jesus, has sinned. A sin is a violation of God’s word (1 John 3:4), either by failing to do what God says or by doing what God says not to do. But that’s not all. Our natural disposition is opposition to God. We were born into this fallen state of rebellion. All of us are “by nature children of wrath” (Eph. 2:3). And this fallen state leads to sinful actions. Sin and separation from God don’t lie dormant. Sin is active. Therefore, all people are sinners both by nature and by choice.

The language the Bible uses to describe people in their unconverted state can be jolting. I think that’s the point. The words are meant to rattle us. Some of the descriptions of unbelievers include “wicked” (Ps. 10:3); “a slave to sin” (John 8:34); “full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, maliciousness” (Rom 1:29); “haters of God” (Rom. 1:30); “inventors of evil” (Rom. 1:30); “enemies” (Rom. 5:10); “hostile to God” (Rom. 8:7); “evil” (2 Thess. 3:2); and “foolish” (Titus 3:3). This language doesn’t reflect ambivalence but rather active opposition to God. In terms of our status before God, we are all sinners, but the degree of expression may differ. As Spurgeon says, “They are all in the mire; but they have not all sunk to an equal depth in it.”2 While some people’s sins may be more pronounced than others, all people—even you and me—-stand naturally opposed to God.

In a summary form, the apostle Paul writes that we “once were alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds” (Col. 1:21). You can see the progression here. Alienation refers to a status; by nature we are separated from God. Hostility in mind is a mind at war with God. This translates into the action Paul labels as “evil deeds.” Even though he hadn’t met the Christians in Colossae and the surrounding regions (Col. 2:1), Paul confidently labels them this way. How could he do this without knowing them personally, without sizing them up morally? Because this is the common condition for all people. Our natural state is helplessly and hopelessly depraved. This is what it means to be lost.

But God acts. He pursues us. He rescues the rebels. Those who were enemies are reconciled through the death of Christ (Col. 1:21–22). Those who were alienated, hostile in mind, and doing evil deeds are now reconciled to God. And one day they will be presented “holy, blameless, and above reproach before him” (Col. 1:22).

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Now and then, we come across a scene in a book, in a film, or in the news that reflects this type of radical reconciliation. And when we do, it shakes us and brings with it a mandatory moment of silence. One example came in a courtroom in 2019. After an off-duty police officer killed his brother, Brandt Jean was allowed to give a victim impact statement. He addressed Amber Guyger, the woman who shot his brother:

If you truly are sorry, I can speak for myself, I forgive, and I know if you go to God and ask him, he will forgive you. And I don’t think anyone can say it—again I’m speaking for myself—but I love you just like anyone else. And I’m not gonna say I hope you rot and die just like my brother did, but I presently want the best for you.3

Then he asked the judge if he could hug Ms. Guyger. The judge permitted, and the image of a grieving, yet forgiving, brother hugging the woman who took his brother’s life flooded the news. It challenged the limits of forgiveness and the possibility of reconciliation. To forgive and embrace someone who caused such pain is not common. It’s extraordinary. It’s shocking grace.

Yet, as riveting as this scene was, our reconciliation to God is ratcheted up a few levels. Our crimes against God are even more heinous because God is so holy. And while people commonly show remorse for the consequences of sin, remorse is rarely expressed for the sinfulness of the sin itself. We hate how sin makes us feel. We fear sin’s repercussions or its punishments in this life, but we do not hate how it dishonors God. Looking through the lenses of God’s infinite holiness and our sin’s ugliness, we begin to better appreciate God moving toward his enemies with the embrace of the gospel. By means of his grace, he says, “I love you. I forgive you. I want you to be part of my family.”

Think again about the above-quoted song lyrics: “Once Your enemy, now seated at Your table, Jesus, thank You.” Perhaps you see more clearly the depth of our alienation from God and the loving grace that sets your place at the family table. But if you’re like me, then you’re prone to forget this, especially when you sin or remember things you’ve done. This is why it’s good to see through the eyes of Christ and understand how he looks at those who opposed him. He’s not ashamed of them. Instead, he loves them. He delights in conquering them with his grace and in welcoming them to his feast. Let me show you a couple of biblical examples to make my point and, in doing so, encourage you about the significance and security of the believer’s position in Christ.

He pursues us. He rescues the rebels. Those who were enemies are reconciled through the death of Christ.

Some Implications

Since every person is naturally born with the status of an enemy of God, everyone can relate in some way to these stories of opposition. Though our experiences and sins may be different, nevertheless, our standing apart from Christ is the same. Therefore, it is good for our souls to revisit these examples of how Jesus prioritizes and pursues his enemies. Consider these brief reflections in closing.

Jesus delights to save his enemies. Everything Christ does, he does for the glory of God. The plucking of one sinner from the path of destruction ignites a chorus of rejoicing in heaven (Luke 15:10). If you have come to Christ, you must know that heaven—even the Prince of heaven—rejoices.

Those who oppose God are prospects for grace. We might be tempted to write off certain people as too far from God. But is this true? What does the family photo of Jesus teach us? To paraphrase John Newton, none are so bad that the gospel cannot be their ground for hope, and none are so good as to have any hope without it.4Consider Stephen. The crowd responded to his faithful proclamation of the gospel by pelting him with rocks. How did he respond to that? In his last breaths, he prayed for them, “And falling to his knees he cried out with a loud voice, ‘Lord, do not hold this sin against them.’ And when he had said this, he fell asleep” (Acts 7:60). Don’t forget that Saul of Tarsus was a member of that violent mob. The Lord answered Stephen’s dying prayer. Our Lord can cure man’s arrogance. He can lead a man to the knowledge of the evils of his heart.5 May God help us to pray, preach, and share the gospel like we believe that God delights to save his enemies.

Our history does not eclipse our status. Paul was a bad guy; there is no doubt. But his past didn’t hang over him. God made him a new person and used him significantly. His former life never defined him but only served as an encouraging example of the kind of mercy people who come to Jesus should expect to receive. In Philippians 3, Paul looks back to who he was (Phil. 3:4–6). Then he reminds himself and his readers of the privilege of the grace of Christ (Phil. 3:7–10). And then he writes words that should be especially precious to those who formerly lived in active opposition to Christ, “Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:13–14). Even though Paul, you, and I were formerly enemies of God, as soon as we come to Christ, we are welcomed at his table. We forget what lies behind, and we press on toward the goal. With our minds set on the loveliness of Christ (Phil. 4:8), we go out, just as he has sent us, to call others home.

Could you imagine how our churches might change if we looked at people the way Jesus does?

Notes:

  1. Pat Sczebel, “Jesus, Thank You,” Sovereign Grace Music, https://sovereigngracemusic.org/
  2. C. H. Spurgeon, “A Great Gospel for Great Sinners,” in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Sermons (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1885), 31:231.
  3. Ashley Killough, Darran Simon, and Ed Lavandera, “His Hug of Forgiveness Shocked the Country. Yet He Still Won’t Watch the Video from That Moment,” CNN, December 8, 2019, https://www.cnn.com/.
  4. John Newton, The Works of John Newton, 6 vols. (London: Hamilton, Adams, 1824), 2:278.
  5. Thomas Boston, The Whole Works of Thomas Boston, ed. Samuel M’Millan, 12 vols. (Aberdeen: George and Robert King, 1849), 4:369.

This article is adapted from He Is Not Ashamed: The Staggering Love of Christ for His People by Erik Raymond.



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Whom Is Jesus Ashamed Of?

Erik Raymond

According to Jesus, the people who are ashamed of him are those who refuse to deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow him. They’ve considered Jesus unworthy of their devotion and obedience.


Behold, the God of Grace!

Sin is not breaking a petty taboo or overstepping a mere tradition. Sin violates the sacred covenant God made with us. Sin also tears down the beautiful solidarity he built among us.

What Is Sin?

Sin is not breaking a petty taboo or overstepping a mere tradition. Sin violates the sacred covenant God made with us. Sin also tears down the beautiful solidarity he built among us.

For example, in Psalm 51, David’s prayer of repentance, he uses three words to describe his sin with utter realism:

Have mercy on me, O God,
     according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy
     blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
     and cleanse me from my sin! (Ps. 51:1–2)

First, “transgression.” That is, willful, open-eyed, deliberate revolt against God. David knew exactly what he doing when he took another man’s wife and got her pregnant (2 Sam. 11). He defied God. His behavior was like giving God the finger. This is the same word used for Joseph’s brothers deliberately selling him out (Gen. 50:17). It wasn’t a mere mistake.

What on earth was David thinking? Maybe he was feeling confined by his life of obeying God. Maybe he was feeling sorry for himself, like God owed him. Maybe he started thinking, “Why not break free and explore my options?” Restless self-pity gets us doing horrendous things.

Second, “iniquity.” That is, a warped, twisted, destructive act. This word appears in Isaiah 24:1, where the Lord “will twist” the earth’s surface into an unnatural form. The English word iniquity sounds quaint, old-fashioned. But think of Gollum, that weird little villain in The Lord of the Rings. He wasn’t himself anymore. He had descended into something bizarre. Like Gollum, David distorted and degraded his God-given sexuality from life-giving to life-taking, from noble to repulsive.

Iniquity is like taking a smartphone—brilliant communications technology—and using it to hammer nails. That isn’t what a smartphone is for. It will break.

Third, “sin.” That is, missing the mark or losing one’s way. This word appears in Judges 20:16, where some highly skilled men could sling a stone “and not miss.” We too miss when the map says, “To get home, turn right here.” But we think, “I know a better way,” and we turn left. No surprise, then, that we get lost, waste time, show up late, disappoint others, and more. Sin is like trying to get healthy eating junk food. It can’t work. Sin can only miss out and let us down. We end up lost, isolated, depressed—and too proud to admit it.

David sums it up in Psalm 51:4: “[I have] done what is evil in your sight.” “Evil” is a strong word! Can we be honest enough to use that word to describe things we have done, not just what other people have done?

In each kind of wrong—defying God, misusing his gifts, veering off from his path—we end up in the same low place, with losses and injuries and sadness we didn’t foresee. On his thirty-sixth birthday, the brilliant Lord Byron, still a young man, wrote this:

My days are in the yellow leaf;
     The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
     Are mine alone!1

It’s not as though, if we just sin more cleverly, we can avoid those painful outcomes. No, sin always entraps us in consequences that leave us defeated and shamed. Then our tears flow. Rock bottom, for sure!

How Does God Feel About Us Now?

Does God look at sinners like us with disgust? Why shouldn’t he? Look at what we’ve done—or left undone! What hope do people like us have by now? The Bible shows us the heart of God for sinners like us, who don’t deserve God. Check this out:

How can I give you up, O Ephraim?
     How can I hand you over, O Israel? . . .
My heart recoils within me;
     my compassion grows warm and tender. . . .
For I am God and not a man,
     he Holy One in your midst. (Hos. 11:8–9)

You are not such a spectacular sinner that your sin can defeat the Savior.

God is agonizing over his people. What grieves his heart, more than their sins against him, is the thought of not having them as his people. “How can I give you up?” is his way of saying, “I could never give you up!” To God, breaking covenant with us is unthinkable, even when we hurt him. And he feels such tender compassion, not because he’s bending his rules, but precisely because he is God: “For I am God and not a man.” In other words, “I am not touchy and explosive and vindictive, like you. I am the Holy One. I am upholding all that it means for me to be God, right in your midst. The door to your better future opens here: my endless capacity to love you.”2

Behold, the God of grace!

And don’t tell him he’s wrong to be so kind. His grace does not need your correction. You need to accept his grace and stop keeping your distance and run to him and fall into his arms. What are you waiting for?

The Bible says Jesus is our sympathetic high priest (Heb. 4:15). The Bible says he deals “gently with the ignorant and wayward” (Heb. 5:2). The Bible is clear: God does not match our sins with his grace. He overmatches our increased sins with his surplus of hyper-grace (Rom. 5:20). His greatest glory is how he responds disproportionately to our sins upon sins with his “grace upon grace” (John 1:16). The whole logical structure of the biblical gospel is summed up in two simple words: “much more” (Rom. 5:15, 17). Your worst sin is far overshadowed by his “much more” grace.

Excuse me for being blunt, but you’ve met your match. You are not such a spectacular sinner that your sin can defeat the Savior. You might as well give in, come out of hiding, and wave the white flag of surrender. What awaits you and me, right down at our lowest rock bottom, is the finished work of Christ on the cross for the undeserving. And we will find such an astonishing hope nowhere else.

All we do in response, all we can do, is receive his grace with the empty hands of faith—and yes, even the dirty hands of sin.

Notes:

  1. Lord Byron, “On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year,” PoetryVerse, https://www.poetryverse.com/.
  2. Cf. Bruce K. Waltke, An Old Testament Theology: An Exegetical, Canonical, and Thematic Approach (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2007), 836.

This article is adapted from Good News at Rock Bottom: Finding God When the Pain Goes Deep and Hope Seems Lost by Ray Ortlund.



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Hymn: “We Sing the Praise of Him Who Died” by Thomas Kelly

We sing the praise of Him who died,
Of Him who died upon the cross.
The sinner’s hope let men deride;
For this we count the world but loss.

“We Sing the Praise of Him Who Died

We sing the praise of Him who died,
Of Him who died upon the cross.
The sinner’s hope let men deride;
For this we count the world but loss.

Inscribed upon the cross we see
In shining letters “God is love.”
He bears our sins upon the tree;
He brings us mercy from above.

The cross! It takes our guilt away;
It holds the fainting spirit up;
It cheers with hope the gloomy day
And sweetens every bitter cup.

It makes the coward spirit brave
And nerves the feeble arm for fight;
It takes the terror from the grave
And gilds the bed of death with light.

The balm of life, the cure of woe,
The measure and the pledge of love,
The sinner’s refuge here below,
The angels’ theme in heav’n above.

To Christ, who won for sinners grace
By bitter grief and anguish sore,
Be praise from all the ransomed race
Forever and forevermore.

Listen to the sermon “They Crucified Him”

The lyrics for this hymn are in the public domain and may be shared or reproduced without obtaining permission.

Crossway+ Special: Gift Guide for Moms, Dads, and Grads

Crossway+ members can order any title in our gift guide for Moms, Dads, and Grads for 50% off along with free shipping on orders of $30 or more in the contiguous US.

Find Gifts for Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and Graduations

Now through June 15, 2025 Crossway+ members can order any title in our gift guide for Moms, Dads, and Grads for 50% off along with free shipping on orders of $30 or more in the contiguous US.

Create a free Crossway+ account to see updated pricing and browse the categories below to get gift ideas for these special people in your life.

Gifts for Moms

Help buoy a mother’s spirit by gifting her books like Every Hour I Need You by Katie Faris and Help for the Hungry Soul by Kristen Wetherell, or offer practical and accessible resources like The Story of Abraham: An 8-Week Bible Study and the ESV Women’s Study Bible.

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Gifts for Dads

Offer support to a dad in your life in the discipline of daily worship with resources like Everyday Gospel by Paul Tripp, the Daily Liturgy Devotional by Douglas Sean O’Donnell, or The Lord of Psalm 23 by David Gibson.

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Gifts for Grads

Help memorialize the accomplishments of a grad in your life by giving them a brand-new ESV Student Study Bible, or help them prepare for new beginnings with I Have My Doubts by Philip Graham Ryken or Demystifying Decision-Making by Aimee Joseph.

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Why You Should Know Francis Grimké

Francis Grimké, born enslaved on a plantation in South Carolina in 1850, was one of the most remarkable pastor-theologians of American history.

Law and Gospel

Francis Grimké, born enslaved on a plantation in South Carolina in 1850, was one of the most remarkable pastor-theologians of American history. He ministered from 1878–1928, mainly in the nation’s capital, and his story is worth knowing.

Though he endured a difficult childhood filled with injustice at the hands of his enslavers, he had a remarkable mother, Nancy Weston, who made great sacrifices for his education and spiritual growth.1 Following the Civil War, he attended Lincoln University, where he graduated as Valedictorian. After briefly considering a career in law and studying at Howard University, the spiritual awakening he began to experience as a college student eventually led him to Princeton Theological Seminary. There, his theological aptitude earned the respect of both Charles Hodge and Benjamin B. Warfield.2 Upon graduation from seminary, he received a call in 1878 to Fifteenth Street Presbyterian Church in Washington, DC, where he served faithfully for the better part of fifty years. That same year, he also married Charlotte Forten of Philadelphia. Her family was well known for their social activism, and her life is another remarkable story also worth knowing.

Perhaps one of the most notable features of Francis Grimké’s ministry relates to his ability to distinguish between the law of God and the gospel of God without separating them. He expressed his views on this matter powerfully in a letter he wrote to the alumni of Princeton Theological, summarizing his many years of ministry:

During these forty years two things I have tried to do with all my might: (1) To preach the gospel of the grace of God, to get men to see their need of a savior, and to accept of Jesus Christ as the way, the truth, the life. If I had to live my life over again I would still choose the ministry, I could not be satisfied in any other calling. (2) I have sought with all my might to fight race prejudice, because I believe it is utterly un-Christian, and that it is doing almost more than anything else to curse our own land and country and the world at large. Christianity, in its teachings, and in the spirit of its founder, stands for the brotherhood of man, calls us to do by others as we would be done by, to love our neighbor as ourselves.3

In these memorable words, Grimké simultaneously distinguished and affirmed the importance of preaching the gospel and fighting race prejudice. He did not treat them as if they were the same thing. Neither did he separate them. This holistic yet differentiated approach to Christian life and ministry is worth knowing.

Civil Rights

Grimké’s commitment to fighting race prejudice led him to a prominent role in the early civil rights movement. He was close to the famous abolitionist Frederick Douglass, who frequently attended Fifteenth Street Presbyterian and asked Grimké to officiate his marriage in 18844. In 1893, he co-founded the Afro-American Council to assist Black clergy who were excluded from the networks that came more naturally to White ministers in the denomination. Alongside Booker T. Washington and W. E. B. Du Bois, he was heavily involved with the Hampton Institute, preaching at its inaugural conference and serving as chair of its Committee on Religion and Ethics from 1898 to 1902. He also served as treasurer and on the executive board of the American Negro Academy, founded by Alexander Crummell to promote African American scholarship and advance the fields of literature, science, art, and higher education. Grimké’s long tenure on the Board of Trustees at Howard University led to an offer to become its president—a role he declined in favor of his pastoral duties.5

Most notably, Grimké played a key role in the Niagara Movement and the founding of the NAACP. He, along with Ida B. Wells-Barnett and Du Bois, was one of six African American signers of the call for the Emancipation Conference, which led to the NAACP's creation.6 Although Grimké chose not to take a leadership role in the organization, he arranged for his brother, Archibald, to serve on the founding committee and later as a vice president.7 Throughout his life, Francis Grimké consistently seized opportunities to advocate for civil rights and speak out prophetically. The essential role of theologically conservative Black ministers like Francis Grimké in the early civil rights movement is underappreciated in both academic scholarship and popular histories. This is a story worth knowing.8

While it may be surprising to some, Francis Grimké’s important role in the early civil rights movement did not prevent him from simultaneously championing the “spiritual nature” of the church’s mission. He frequently taught on this topic, and he also practiced what he preached. The title of one of his most widely circulated and commented upon sermons was based upon the Great Commission of Matthew 28 and entitled “Christ’s Program for the Saving the World.” In that sermon he declared that Jesus Christ would build his kingdom by calling people to repentance for their sins and faith in him as the Son of God and savior of sinners. Grimké acknowledged that some people think a ministry centered upon preaching this gospel message is “foolishness” and should be replaced by other “schemes.” However, he boldly declared that salvation does not come through personal obedience, social improvement, or “secular” knowledge, however useful it might be. Salvation can only come by preaching Christ from both the Old and New Testament Scriptures and calling people to personal faith.9

Faithful Ministry

Grimké’s firm commitment to the spiritual nature of the church’s ministry and his theological commitments to traditional Christian views on the nature of Scripture and the person and work of Christ led him to make careful theological distinctions and thoughtful decisions in his personal ministry. He distinguished between preaching the gospel and fighting race prejudice, but he devoted his life to both. He distinguished between sacred and secular knowledge, vocations, and issues, but he did not place them in opposition. He highly valued individual, corporate, and social aspects of Christian life and piety.

Along these lines, he saw the importance of Christian work in the church, in society, and in the state, but he did not confuse or collapse the different spheres. He also distinguished between his personal and public life and his roles as a Christian and as a Christian minister. He did not place these roles in competition, but he did distinguish them. Practically speaking, this meant that he encouraged his brother, an attorney, to serve formally with the NAACP. As a pastor, he believed his primary role was in teaching the word of God. His preaching frequently touched on moral and social issues, but he also warned Christian ministers not to engage in partisan politics by endorsing specific candidates or policies.10 These are complicated subjects, and Grimké’s passionate, thoughtful, careful example is thought provoking and worth knowing.

Francis Grimké’s fifty years of faithful ministry brought hope and light during one of the darkest periods of American history. The post-Reconstruction years of lynching, Jim Crow, race riots, attempts to make interracial marriage illegal, and countless other moral and cultural failures left a toll on the nation, and too often Christians not only failed to fight such moral tragedies but they perpetuated and condoned them.

Grimké was honest about these realities, and he frequently expressed concern regarding the moral trajectory of the nation. Yet he never gave up hope. His hope, however, was not placed on any experience or even expectation of moral progress. Grimké continued his efforts not because he expected immediate social progress but because he believed that God is ultimate. While he saw no grounds for naive optimism, premature claims about the end of racism or other moral evils, or simplistic assertions that the gospel alone could resolve all social issues in the present age, he also saw no reason for pessimism, despair, or dismissing the power of God working through the gospel. As he wrote, there is “no reason to become discouraged, though at times things may look pretty dark.” Instead, “we are hopeful, and will ever be” because “Jesus Christ has set his kingdom up in the world,” and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.11 He was honest and hopeful at the same time, and his story is worth knowing.

Despite his profound impact, Grimké is often overlooked in discussions of American religious and civil rights history. Yet he was a prominent leader in both the church and the early civil rights movement for over fifty years. The neglect of his legacy is noteworthy, especially considering his influential role as a pastor and his vital contributions to the civil rights movement. Grimké’s life highlights the need for a more inclusive recounting of American church history—one that recognizes the crucial role of Black religious leaders in shaping the nation’s spiritual and social fabric. His writings and activism offer valuable insights into the intersection of faith, race, and justice. His story is worth knowing.

Notes:

  1. Archibald H. Grimké, “A Madonna of the South,” The Southern Workman 29, no. 7 (1900): 392.
  2. James McCosh to unnamed addressee, October 18, 1879, in The Works of Francis J. Grimké, ed. Carter G. Woodson, 4 vols. (Washington, DC: Associated Publishers, 1942), 1:x; Ethelbert D. Warfield to Francis J. Grimké, December 28, 1922, in Works, 4:357.
  3. Grimké to the class of 1878 of Princeton Theological Seminary, April 27, 1918, in Works, 4:215.
  4. Francis J. Grimké, “The Second Marriage of Frederick Douglass,” Journal of Negro History 19, no. 3 (1934): 324-329.
  5. Henry Justin Ferry, “Francis James Grimké: Portrait of a Black Puritan” (PhD diss., Yale University, 1970), 195, 204, 207, 214-215, 267.
  6. Drew Martin, Grimké on the Christian Life: Christian Vitality for the Church and World (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2025), chapter 10.
  7. Dickson D. Bruce, Archibald Grimké: Portrait of a Black Independent (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1993), 104–105; Mark Perry, Lift Up Thy Voice: The Grimké Family’s Journey from Slaveholders to Civil Rights Leaders (New York: Viking, 2001), 332–333.
  8. Daniel R. Bare, Black Fundamentalists: Conservative Christianity and Racial Identity in the Segregation Era (New York: New York University Press, 2021); Mary Beth Swetnam Mathews, African American Evangelicals and Fundamentalism between the Wars (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 2017).
  9. Francis J. Grimké, “Christ’s Program for the Saving of the World” (1936), box 40-6, folder 309, Francis J. Grimké Papers, Howard University Library, 1-5. See also Francis J. Grimké, “The Nature and Mission of the Christian Church” (ca. 1889), box 40-8, folder 415, Francis J. Grimké Papers, Howard University Library.
  10. Grimké, Works, 3:292–95.
  11. Grimké, Works, 3:330–31.

Drew Martin is the author of Grimké on the Christian Life: Christian Vitality for the Church and World.



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Holy Transformation: How God Renovates Our Lives

John 17 gives us a glimpse into Jesus’ prayer life—the Son praying to the Father for the disciples who are immediately present and for all those who would later believe.

Holy Transformation: How God Renovates Our Lives

John 17 gives us a glimpse into Jesus’ prayer life—the Son praying to the Father for the disciples who are immediately present and for all those who would later believe.

In verse 15, Jesus prays for His disciples’ preservation. Then, in verse 17, He prays for their sanctification: “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth” (John 17:17). In the space of just nine words, Jesus teaches a great deal about the doctrine of sanctification. The word “sanctify” in this verse is related to the word holy. So while the text reads, “Sanctify them in the truth,” we might also say, “Make them holy in the truth.”

When a Christian asks, “What is God doing in my life?” the answer, based on Jesus’ prayer in verse 17, is simple: By the power of the Spirit and the Word, God is making us more like His Son, Jesus. That’s the work of sanctification.

Using John 17:17 as a starting point, we can define the doctrine of sanctification biblically and then establish how this work is displayed in a believer’s life.

Sanctification Defined Biblically

In the Old Testament, places, people, priests, utensils, buildings, etc., were often described as “holy.” That is, they were set apart from one use to be set apart for another. For example, a bowl used for rituals in the temple was set apart for a specific purpose in the framework of God. (See, e.g., Exodus 25:29).

When we see the word “sanctify,” we should think of it in terms of being set apart for use in the service of God. It is the process of being made less like ourselves and more like Jesus.  It’s the work of renovation.

Indeed, sanctification is the fruit of being set apart in Jesus. It is distinct from justification—the act of God declaring sinners righteous on account of His Son’s finished work—but the two are closely related. While we can distinguish between justification and sanctification, we cannot divide them. The only people whom God justifies are those whom He sanctifies. Declaring us righteous, God then makes us righteous.

We might say it this way: The grace that sets us apart to God is the same grace that makes us increasingly like God.

Sanctification Displayed Progressively

Looking at the doctrine from a different angle: Sanctification is a matter of degrees. Believers can’t be more or less justified. The declaration of righteousness God makes is legal and external. But we can be more or less sanctified. Sanctification is a lifelong project.

C. S. Lewis offers a helpful metaphor in Mere Christianity:

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.1

In sanctification, God chisels us into the image He has intended. He cuts off useless pieces, realigns disproportionate elements, smooths out the rough edges—all with the loving purpose of greater holiness.

But as soon as we enter into that new dimension, we realize we brought with us our old fallen nature—that part of us that still loves sin. Sanctification is a kind of conflict: our old nature still clinging on, our new nature striving toward Christlikeness. The Christian is simultaneously sinner and saint, a rebellious child yet adopted into God’s family.

Sanctification is a lifelong project.

And sanctification takes time. The process is full of triumphs and trials this side of eternity. Specifically, we can look for God’s renovating work in at least three ways.

First, God sanctifies us mentally. “Do not be conformed to this world,” Paul urges the Christians in Rome, “but be transformed by the renewal of your mind” (Rom. 12:2). Our minds are constantly bombarded by input from outside of us—from podcasts, emails, videos, music, etc. Mismanaged, these influences can become hindrances to God’s work in our minds.

Second, God sanctifies us physically. From our heads to our feet—our words to our actions—it is the Father’s purpose to redeem our bodies and their works for His glory, as temples fit for the Spirit to take up residence (1 Cor. 6:19).

Finally, God intends to sanctify us totally. Paul prays for the Thessalonians along these lines: “Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely” (1 Thess. 5:23). We can be confident of God’s work in us when we have less and less to hide from Him—fewer doors in our hearts shut off to His rule.

Sanctification Discovered Submissively

Importantly, Jesus prays for His disciples to be sanctified “in the truth” of God’s Word. The Father uses His Word, applied in the Spirit’s power, to make us more like His Son. When we open our Bibles, we read the very words of God—the Son sent into the world from the Father to speak the Father’s words, the Son then giving His words to the apostles to preach, and the apostles, under the Spirit’s guidance, inscripturating those words for later generations.

There are two main ways we experience sanctification in the word of truth. First, we experience it personally, through activities such as daily devotions, regular Bible-reading, and Scripture memorization. J. C. Ryle comments, “Believers who neglect the Word will not grow in holiness and victory over sin.”2 Why? Because sanctification occurs “in the truth,” not apart from it.

The grace that sets us apart to God is the same grace that makes us increasingly like God.

Yet sanctification through God’s Word is not only private but corporate. The reason preaching always should be central to worship is because God has chosen the proclamation of His Word as one of the main means through which He works. We experience the sanctifying work of God in preaching in a way unlike any other. It’s perhaps for this reason the author of Hebrews exhorts the persecuted church not to forsake meeting together (Heb. 10:25)—for it’s in the meeting and listening that God sanctifies us.

At the beginning, we asked the common question “What is God doing in my life?” The answer we find in John 17:17 is as clear as it is thrilling: He is sanctifying you! The Father wills it. Jesus prays for it. The Spirit applies it. And we get to experience it.

For those of us in Christ, we are being transformed into His image, whether we can sense it or not. God is renovating the lives of those He has justified. And one day, when we see Christ, the building project will be complete. We will be just like Him (1 John 3:2).

This article was adapted from the sermon “‘Sanctify Them’” by Alistair Begg.

Transformed A 9 day reading plan on Jesus' sermon on the plain

  1. C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, bk. 4, chap. 9. ↩︎

  2. J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels: St. John (New York: Robert Carter and Brothers, 1878), 3:200. ↩︎

Introducing the 10 Questions Devotional Series for Kids and Teens

The new 10 Questions series invites children ages 8–14 to investigate spiritual questions and provides reliable theological and practical answers on their level.

A New Devotional Series Written Especially for Tweens

Everyone has questions about religion, but when you’re young, finding the answers can be difficult. Some books are too complex and others don’t dive deeply enough into the faith topics that matter most to kids and teens. So where can young readers go to grow in their understanding of God and his word?

The new 10 Questions series invites children ages 8–14 to investigate spiritual questions and provides reliable theological and practical answers on their level.

  • Faith-Building Devotionals for Kids and Teens: With 30 devotional readings, prayers, and reflection questions, each of these books makes a great supplement to regular Bible study
  • Comprehensive: The 10 questions range from the content of the Bible to the experience of living out your personal faith
  • Flexible: The 10 questions can be read in any order—alone or as a family

Available Now

The first book, 10 Questions about Salvation, helps readers find joy, security, and hope in God’s gracious love. Each 10 Questions book presents one main topic, poses 10 vital questions on the topic, and answers each question through 3 short devotions. Readers can work through the 30 readings in any order they choose. Written to be read alone or aloud with family, 10 Questions about Salvation is the perfect way to start or end each day reflecting on the things of God.

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Coming in October

The second book in the series, 10 Questions about Pain and Suffering, will be released in October. In this volume, Beth Broom offers biblical answers about the origin and purpose of suffering, helping young readers navigate their pain, seek comfort in God, and help others in their distress.