whatever you do, don't open your Bible

Yesterday, I had one of those magnifying mirrors that women use for make-up shoved into my face, and I was shocked. I’m getting old, but I had no idea I was that old. Wrinkles gaining ground. Pores of my skin big as smallpox scars. Nose getting bigger—no one told me about that! And double bags to go with my double chins.

My first reaction? To shut my eyes tight and think of something pleasant.

OK, this is what we in the profession call a metaphor (from here on, I'll try not to use any more technical, highly-sophisticated Greek terms like metaphor). It wasn’t a mirror in front of me. It was the Bible, 2nd Peter. And the one holding the mirror was my pastor, Kevin DeYoung. Throughout the book Peter admonishes his listeners (it would have been read aloud to the church) that though we are elect, chosen by God, we must still be eager to make that calling and election sure. In other words, though God chooses and keeps us, we must strive (by grace) to live holy lives.

And that's hard. Actually, it's much more than hard—it's absolutely impossible. No wonder people don’t want to open a Bible or go to a church where someone else might open one. And by people, I mean unbelievers and Christians both. Unbelievers don't want to be shown God's holy standard because deep down they know it's an impossible one, so they know they're doomed. Their logic goes like this: God is holy. I'm not; therefore, I'm doomed. Better to kill God by atheism or indifference. But believers also don't want to be shown the standard, not because they know they're doomed, but precisely because they know they're not. They know the Gospel, so they know it is possible, if not to live it out perfectly, then at least to move toward that standard. Their logic goes like this: if God commands it, and if I have his Spirit, I can obey it. But I don't want to change, so I'll just shut my eyes and ears to it.

The world has hold of the unbeliever outright, but it still pulls at the believer, and we believers like our shows, our movies, our music, our friends. We've killed the big sins, or at least made them quiet; surely God doesn't want us to be legalists over all the little ones, right? But we forget that obedience is not legalism. To that end, Kevin made this great point: we want to feed the poor, and the Bible has a few verses on that; we want to evangelize, and the Bible has a few verses on that too; but we don't want to live holy, Godly lives, even though the Bible has many, many more verses on that. From 2 Peter alone, Kevin pointed out 20 reasons that Peter gave for his church to be holy. Of course, we don't need 20 reasons to obey. We only need one—that God says so. But God knows what we're made of—dust, grass, sheep matter. He knows it's hard, so in his grace he gives us many reasons.

Here's the good news, both for the believer and unbeliever: the Gospel replaces what we see in the mirror because it replaces the object within it. So while it doesn't make us beautiful, it does show us Christ because a very real exchange has been made, our condemned life for his perfect one. This blows apart the poor logic of the believer and unbeliever alike. In fact, if we submit ourselves to Christ and his word, he will show the unbeliever how he's no longer doomed, and will share with the believer his own desire for holiness. We'll be holy because he is holy (Justification), and we'll want to be holier because he is holy (Sanctification).

But if you can't handle the shock of seeing your un-holiness, whatever you do, don't open your Bible. Instead, just close your eyes, maybe stick your fingers in your ears, and try to think of something pleasant. As for me, it's too late. I've seen myself up close.

"...be holy, for I am holy." - Lev. 11:44