by John H. Gerstner

In What Sense the Christian Is Imperfect Now
The saint's imperfection is no less apparent than his perfection. It jumps right out from the Scripture. In Colossians 3:12 we are told that Christians are elect and holy; immediately after that we are exhorted to put on mercy, humility, and the other elements of a holy life. In the Lord's Prayer we are specifically instructed to ask God for the forgiveness of our debts, our sins. Paul counted himself not to have attained; he did not consider himself already perfect.

The Apostle John, one of the most saintly men of all time, the apostle whom the Lord loved, said that if any man said he had no sin he deceived himself and the truth was not in him. One preacher, commenting on the fact that the Christian who says he has no sin deceives himself, remarked that he does not deceive anyone but himself. Martin Luther likened the sanctification of the Christian to the healing of an open sore. The sore is healing, which means that it is potentially healed; but meanwhile it is quite painful and may even be putrid.

What Is the Christian to Do in this Situation?
In this situation the Christian is to strive for the very perfection that he already potentially enjoys. That is what a great artist does when he trains to become a great artist. It is said that Enrico Caruso and Fritz Kreisler had music in their souls at the beginning. Training for them meant making their potential genius actual. If it had not been there to begin with, no amount of training would have produced it. But even though it was there, it would never have come to expression and reality without training. So the Christian has the gift of religious genius; it is given to him at his birth as a Christian (what we call "regeneration"). He is then called upon to bring it out; the process is called "Christian education" (from educare, to lead out). In the Colossians passage, Paul says, "Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, longsuffering." In other words, Paul is saying, "You are holy; therefore put forth these holy acts of mercy, humility, meekness, and longsuffering."

You put on or put forth these virtues. You do this, not God. There is a certain movement in the church that calls upon its followers to "let go and let God." But Christianity does not say, "Let go"; it says, "Put forth." The Sandemanians were an obscure little sect which taught the deadline of all doing and the necessity for inactivity in order to let God do His work in the soul. But Christianity says, "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God which worketh in you."

Just how God works and we work is beautifully illustrated by the great Dutch theologian, Abraham Kuyper:

You can represent this to yourself most vividly when you think of a ship.

At the stern of that ship is a rudder, and attached to this rudder is the tiller, and this is held by the hand of the helmsman.

Should there be no steering when at sea, this boat moves under the action of the wind and waves; then when the ship turns the rudder turns; when the rudder turns the tiller turns, and with it the hand and the arm of the man at the helm moves involuntarily back and forth.

Behold the image of a will-less man.

He is adrift upon the sea of life. As wind and waves drive, so he is driven along, under influences from without and from within--of circumstances, of his passion. And as life makes him go, now in this direction, now in that, so he goes; and so turns the rudder in his inward purpose, and so turns the tiller and the hand at the helm; i.e., his will.

The will-less one!

But it is altogether different when there is steerage in the ship. Then the man at the helm keeps the course. He knows where he wants to go. And when wind and wave would drive him out of his course, he works against them. Then his hand grasps the tiller firmly, he turns it, and therewith the rudder itself, against wind and wave. And the ship that responds to the help cuts through the waves, not as tide and wind would direct it, but as the helmsman wills.

Such is the man of character, the man with will-perception and will-power, who does not drift, but steers.

But there is still a third point.

On the bridge of the ship, far away from the help, stands the captain, and he has placed a helmsman at the tiller. Now the captain on the bridge must know what course the ship must take. On the bridge he stands much higher, and therefore knows far better how the ship must point to the right or to the left. And so the helmsman has but this single duty, namely that he must listen to what the captain on the bridge commands, and that he carries out those orders.

Applied to the soul, God is this Captain on the bridge, and we are the man at the helm. And if, with the tiller of the small boat of our soul in hand, we but will what God wills, and so turn the helm to right or left as God commands, then no danger need be feared; and presently, through wind and wave, the little boat enters safely the desired haven.

If this goes on through the whole of life, we grow accustomed to it; we know at length by anticipation whether the Captain on the bridge will command left or right. Thus, of ourselves we come to know God's will more and more. And this knowledge of God brings us nearer to the haven of salvation--to eternal life.

When God so works upon us that at length we will what God wills, the process is not external, but internal. (To Be Near Unto God. The Macmillan Co., NY, 1925. pp. 200-202)

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This is part twenty of John H. Gerstner's small book entitled Theology for Everyman, originally published in 1965 (Moody Press, Chicago). That book was subsequently republished in 1991. It has since fallen out of print and we thought it would be good to revisit this book here on the blog. Over the next couple of months, we'll work our way through the book. Here is where we've been so far: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 and Chapter 6.