True Spirituality

  However, now I wish to move on to another positive con­cept, consequent to this. The true Bible-believing Christian is the one who lives in practice in this supernatural world. I am not saying that no one can be saved and go to heaven unless he lives in practice in this supernatural world. Happily this is not so, or none of us would go to heaven, because none of us lives this way consistently. What I am saying is that the true Bible­-believing Christian is one who does so. I am not a Bible­-believing Christian in the fullest sense simply by believing the right doctrines, but as I live in practice in this supernatural world.

  What does this mean? According to the biblical view, there are two parts to reality: the natural world-that which we see, normally; and the supernatural part. When we use the word "supernatural," however, we must be careful. The "supernat­ural" is really no more unusual in the universe, from the biblical viewpoint, than what we normally call the natural. The only reason we call it the supernatural part is that usually we cannot see it. That is all. From the biblical view-the Judaeistic-Christian view-reality has two halves, like two halves of an orange. You do not have the whole orange unless you have both parts. One part is normally seen, and the other is normally unseen.

  I would suggest that this may be illustrated by two chairs.[1] The men who sit in these chairs look at the universe in two different ways. We are all sitting in one or other of these chairs at every single moment of our lives. The first man sits in his chair and faces this total reality of the universe, the seen part and the normally unseen part, and consistently sees truth against this background. The Christian is a man who has said, "I sit in this chair." The unbeliever, however, is the man who sits in the other chair, intellectually. He sees only the natural part of the universe, and interprets truth against that background. Let us see that these two positions cannot both be true. One is true, one is false. If indeed there is only the natural portion of the universe, with a uniformity of natural causes in a closed system, then to sit in the other chair is to delude oneself. If, however, there are the two halves of reality, then to sit in the naturalist's chair is to be extremely naive and to misunder­stand the universe completely. From the Christian viewpoint, no man has ever been so naive, nor so ignorant of the uni­verse, as twentieth-century man.

  However, to be a true Bible-believing Christian, we must understand that it is not enough simply to acknowledge that the universe has these two halves. The Christian life means living in the two halves of reality: the supernatural and the natural parts. I would suggest that it is perfectly possible for a Christian to be so infiltrated by twentieth-century think­ing, that he lives most of his life as though the supernatural were not there. Indeed, I would suggest that all of us do this to some extent. The supernatural does not touch the Christian only at the new birth and then at his death, or at the second coming of Christ, leaving the believer on his own in a natural­istic world during all the time in between. Nothing could be further from the biblical view. Being a biblical Christian means living in the supernatural now, not only theoretically but in practice. If a man sits in the one chair, and denies the existence of the supernatural portion of the world, we say he is an unbe­liever. What shall we call ourselves when we sit in the other chair but live as though the supernatural were not there? Should not such an attitude be given the name "unfaith?" "Unfaith" is the Christian not living in the light of the super­natural now. It is Christianity that has become a dialectic, or simply a "good philosophy." As a matter of fact, I think very strongly that Christianity is a good philosophy. I think it is the best philosophy that ever has existed. More than this, it is the only philosophy that is consistent to itself and answers the questions. It is a good philosophy precisely because it deals with the problems and gives us answers to them. Nevertheless, it is not only a good philosophy. The Bible does not just speak in abstractions; it does not tell about a religious idea far away. It tells about man as Man. It tells about each individual, as each man is that individual. And it tells us how to live in the real universe as it is now. Remove this factor, and it becomes only a dialectic.

  As I have said, I am in one chair or the other at any given moment. Unhappily, the Christian all too often tends to vacil­late between the two chairs. At one moment he is in the chair of faith, and at another moment he is in the chair of unfaith. Once I have accepted Jesus Christ as Savior, I am saved because I rest in the hands of Jesus Christ and on the basis of his completely finished work. But God still deals with me as a man; I am not a machine, I am not a figure of metal. It is per­fectly possible for a Christian to alternate from one chair to another. But if I am trying to live a Christian life while sitting in the chair of unfaith, certain things are true. First of all it is done in the flesh. I do not care what my activity may be; I do not care how much noise I make about soul-winning evange­lism, or exotic things, for example. It is still in the flesh. I have put myself, the creature, at the center of the universe.

  Second, if I am trying to live a Christian life while sitting in the chair of unfaith, I am only playing at it, rather than being in it, because the real battle is not against flesh and blood, but is in the "heavenlies," and I cannot participate in that battle in the flesh. In times of war, while the big brothers are away in the real battle, the little boys at home play soldiers. They act like soldiers all right, but they have no contact with or any influence on the real battle being fought. When I try to live a Christian life while sitting in the chair of unfaith, I am just playing at war. I am not in contact with the real battle at all.

  Third, the Lord will not honor our weapons if we are sitting in the chair of unfaith, because they do not give him any honor or glory. In fact, they steal the honor and glory from him, even that of being totally the Creator and the center of the universe. Paul speaks of this when he says, "Whatsoever is not of faith is sin." Hudson Taylor said, "The Lord's work done in the Lord's way will never fail to have the Lord's provision." He was thinking primarily of material provision, but surely he would also include the whole provision. I would paraphrase his saying like this: The Lord's work done in human energy is not the Lord's work any longer. It is something, but it is not the Lord's work.

  At this point, two questions arise. The first is this: If the real battle is "in the heavenlies," then are the "heavenlies" a long way off? And secondly, Does not our individual part in it really become rather unimportant?

  First, then, are the heavenlies, according to the Scriptures, a long way off? Is the supernatural world remote? The answer is very decidedly, "No." The Mount of Transfiguration makes it very, very plain that the supernatural world is not a long way off. One does not have to take a space ship and fly for two generations, producing the second generation in flight, in order to reach the supernatural world. The supernatural in this case was at the top of the inclined plane of the mountain. There was sequence involved, so that when they came down it was just the next step. This is the emphasis of Scripture, that the super­natural world is not far off, but very, very close indeed.

  Speaking of Christ on the Emmaus road, Luke wrote: "And their eyes were opened, and they knew him; and he vanished out of their sight" (Luke 24:31).

  It would in fact be better to translate: "He ceased to be seen of them." Luke does not say that Christ was no longer there. In this particular place they simply did not see him any longer. John 20:19 and 26 gives the same emphasis. This view is not shut up to the one historic moment, following the resur­rection of Jesus Christ. It is the structure of the Scripture. The supernatural structure of the Scripture carries with it the em­phasis that the supernatural is not far away, but near at hand, all about us; the supernatural is not just yesterday and tomor­row, it is today.

  This is equally to be found in the Old Testament.

  "And Jacob went on his way, and the angels of God met him, and when Jacob saw them he said, This is God's host: and he called the name of the place Mahanaim" (Genesis 32:1, 2).

  The Hebrew name "Mahanaim " means "two hosts" or "two camps." And o
ne camp is as real as the other. One is not a shadow and fiction, a product of Jacob's mind. They were two equal hosts; in the first place his own, made up of his own fam­ily, and his animals, and all the rest; and the second one, angels, who were just as valid and real, and just as near at hand.

  But perhaps the classic passage on this subject is 2 Kings 6:16, 17. Here Elisha is surrounded by an enemy, and the young man who is with him is terrified. But Elisha says to him: "Fear not, for they that be with us are more than they that be with them." To the young man this must have seemed pretty cold comfort at that moment. But very quickly it became a real­istic comfort, an actuality: "And Elisha prayed and said, Lord, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw; and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha." At that moment the young man did not have any more problems! From our present point of consideration, however, the significant thing is that the prayer was not that some­thing would come. It was already there. The only difference was that the young man's eyes had to be opened to see what Elisha already saw. The supernatural was not something far off, it was there. All the young man needed was to have his eyes opened to see it.

  When one refers to the supernatural, immediately the natu­ralistic man is determined to get rid of it. He is determined to argue that it is not there. That is why liberal theology-which is naturalistic-tries to make a theology that will stand when there is nothing left but anthropology. This is really where the battle of truth is being fought throughout the world. But if we see this, then we have thrust upon us the necessity, the high calling and the duty, to live in the light of the existence of the two parts of the universe, the seen and the unseen parts, in the realization that the heavenlies are not far off. They are about us here.

  Now for the second question. If the real battles are super­natural, in the "heavenlies," is not our part in them rather unimportant? A comment of the apostle Paul relates to this: "For I think that God has set forth us the apostles last, as it were appointed to death: for we are made a spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and to men" (1 Corinthians 4:9).

  Here Paul makes the most fantastic claim, if one views it from merely a naturalistic viewpoint or sitting in the chair that we have called "unfaith." The word in the Greek which is translated as "spectacle" has nothing to do with our modern use of that word. It is the idea of theater; we are on a stage being observed. He says here that the supernatural universe is not far off, and that while the real battle is in the heavenlies, our part is not unimportant at all, because it is being observed by the unseen world. It is like a one-way mirror. We are under observation.

  Actually this teaching does not rest upon this single verse. For example, Paul mentions it to Timothy, who in the narrow sense is not an apostle at all: "I charge thee before God, and the Lord Jesus Christ, and the elect angels...." (1 Timothy 5:21).

  Is Timothy all alone? Is there a time when Timothy is not observed? The answer is, "No." God observes; but something more, the angels observe, too. And this is not only true of Timothy, but of us all. This, of course, is the meaning of the Book of Job. Job did not understand that he was being ob­served, but he was. More than that, he was playing a part in the battle of the heavenlies, even though he did not know it, when the series of disasters struck. He was not only being ob­served, but there was a cause and effect relationship from the seen to the unseen world. We know this in the teaching of Christ, too, because Christ tells us that when a sinner repents, the angels in heaven rejoice. This is cause and effect, in twen­tieth-century language; a cause and effect relationship. There is a cause upon the earth and in the unseen world there is an effect. The supernatural world is not a long way off, and our part is not unimportant, because we are observed; and, more than that, there is a cause and effect relationship with the real battle in the heavenlies, on the basis of our living the Christian life or not.

  If we keep in mind 1 Corinthians 4:9, where we are told that we are "on the stage" before men and angels, we must also note what Paul says in 1 Corinthians 2:4, which is not unrelated to this: "And my speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man's wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power."

  In demonstration before whom? In the light of Paul's remarks in chapter 4, it is surely not only a demonstration before the lost world, or before the Church, but a demon­stration before the angels, too.

  This verse has been grossly misunderstood. Many would say that it teaches that there should only be a "simple" preaching of the gospel; and by the "simple" preaching of the gospel they may mean the simple refusal to consider the ques­tions of our own generation, and a simple refusal to wrestle with them. They contrast the "simple"-preaching of the gospel with the attempt to give honest intellectual answers, where honest questions are asked. But nothing could be further from the meaning of these words. That is "simply" not what these words are saying. What Paul is saying here is that the preaching of the gospel to simple or more "complicated" men fails in both cases if it does not include a demonstration of the Christian life, if it does not include the work of the Holy Spirit. It is not a matter of giving the simplest gospel message one can imagine, and making a complete dichotomy between faith and intellectual life. Paul is saying that no matter what kind of peo­ple you are preaching to, and no matter what terminology you need, and no matter how long the words you have to use, and whether you are speaking to the peasant or the philosopher, in every case there must be demonstration of the power of the Spirit-of the resurrected, glorified Christ working through us.

  Little by little, many Christians in this generation find the reality slipping away. The reality tends to get covered by the barnacles of naturalistic thought. Indeed, I suppose this is one of half a dozen questions that are most often presented to me by young people from Christian backgrounds: Where is the re­ality? Where has the reality gone? I have heard it spoken in an honest, open desperation, by fine young Christians in many countries. As the ceiling of the naturalistic comes down upon us, as it invades by injection or by connotation, reality gradually slips away. But the fact that Christ as the bride­groom brings forth fruit through me as the bride, through the agency of the indwelling Holy Spirit by faith, opens the way for me as a Christian to begin to know in the present life the reality of the supernatural. This is where the Christian is to live. Doctrine is important, but it is not an end in itself. There is to be an experiential reality, moment by moment. And the glory of the experiential reality of the Christian, as opposed to the bare existential experience, or the religious experiences of the East, is that we can do it with all the intellectual doors and windows open. We do not need a dark room; we do not need to be under the influence of a hallucinatory drug; we do not need to be listening to a certain kind of music; we can know the re­ality of the supernatural here and now.

  This experiential result, however, is not just an experience of "bare" supernaturalism, without content, without our being able to describe and communicate it. It is much more. It is a moment-by-moment, increasing, experiential relationship to Christ and to the whole Trinity. We are to be in a relationship with the whole Trinity. The doors are open now: the intellec­tual doors, and also the doors to reality.

  So this is the "how." This is "how" to live a life of freedom from the bonds of sin: not perfection, for that is not promised to us in this life. But this is "how" to have freedom in the present life from the bonds of sin, and from the results of those bonds, as we shall see later. This is the way we may exhibit the reality of the supernatural to a generation which has lost its way. This is the Christian life, and this is true spirituality. In the light of the unity of the Bible's teaching in regard to the su­pernatural nature of the universe, the "how" is the power of the crucified and the risen Christ, through the agency of the indwelling Holy Spirit, by faith.

  Salvation:

  Past - Future - Present 6

  The Bible says that man fell, at a specific point in
history, and as man fell, both man and the world over which he had dominion became abnormal. It would seem, looking at subsequent history, that God's creation of rational, moral crea­tures was a failure.

  But then Christ came, died, and rose-also in history-and the necessary victory was won. When Christ returns, the evi­dence of his victory will be completely obvious. Yet on the earth today there is neither universal peace for the individual nor for mankind. Indeed, the twentieth-century world is not basically very different from the Assyrian, the Babylonian, or the Roman world.

  Does that mean that between the victory on the cross and the present day, and on to the second coming of the Lord Jesus Christ, God did not intend that there should be any evidence of the reality of the victory of the cross?

  As we examine Scripture, we surely find that this is exactly what he did not mean. "But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people"; (that is, a peo­ple set apart for a purpose) "in order that ye should show forth the praises" (or the virtues) "of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light: which in time past were not a people, but are now the people of God" (1 Peter 2:9, 10).

  This passage says that in this present life Christians are called for a purpose, called to show forth the praises of God. In other words, God did not mean that there should be no evi­dence of the reality of the victory of the cross between Jesus' ascension and his second coming. God has always intended that Christians should be the evidence, the demonstration, of Christ's victory on the cross.