The “alleylon” (one another) passages in the New Testament, Part 7: And so fulfill the law of Christ (Gal. 6:2b)

(In which we continue our brief hiatus from the normal program to revel in even more theology)

One of the best aspects of studying theology is that the Holy Spirit has authored an excellent book about it. In that book we find that God understands himself perfectly, reveals himself completely, and draws us to himself unfailingly. Nothing of the Lord’s theological story is abstract or inaccessible to the human heart created in his image and redeemed in Christ. Every expression of doctrine is a real-life demonstration of God’s nature, and this is never truer than when we consider the unbreakable union of law and grace, which the Father illustrates most profoundly through the living text of his Son’s incarnation, death, and resurrection.

A reasonable segue, then, to our last three points about the marriage of law and grace, which are:

5.) Law and grace come to their perfect union at the cross of Jesus. This is literally a matter of life and death, where death brings life and life brings death. Why is it life? Because the Son of God, who was without any sin, was obedient to his Father’s will and gave himself to be crucified by Jews and gentiles (i.e., everyone is responsible, and everyone benefits). When Jesus endures an entirely undeserved death, the Father sees an offering that fulfills every one of the Law’s requirements. Once Jesus accomplishes the Law’s demands, anyone who will confess that he or she is only able to come to God by hanging on to his coattails receives the ultimate gift of grace: a free ticket to eternal life.

Why is it death? Because the Son of God – God himself – carries to the cross and to the grave an indestructible life that catches our enemy completely by surprise. The life that Jesus bears in himself comes forth in resurrection and, in the words of the ancient prayer, puts death to death.  With death and Satan out of the way comes what I like to call the great unwinding: Life repeals the curse of disobedience, turns back time, and turns the Law, which brought death, into a living thing for us, which it was supposed to be from the beginning. Through the fulfillment of the Law and the power of grace, legalism and antinomianism are both put to death, which means …

6.) LIBERTY! Two kinds of it. First, freedom from guilt, sin, death, and the Law’s power to condemn and kill us. I no longer need to engage in vain striving, lofty unfruitful promises that I will “be better,” or fatal attempts to cover up and cover over my own failings and failures. Do I always take advantage of my liberty? Do I really need to answer that question? OK, no, and sorry to all of you for my continued lack of cooperation. But that doesn’t negate the fact that I am free to go to the Messianic grace that’s on deposit for me and to liberally admit my need, withdraw forgiveness and mercy, and leave behind all the junk that I walked in with.

Second, freedom to follow after Christ and to walk in his ways. Now striving no longer has to be deadly, but can be God-empowered and God focussed. Now I don’t have to make promises to God, but I can allow him to keep his promises to me. And when I leave my tiny and inadequate fig leaves behind, I can enter the Lord’s changing room and put on his own character and even his own righteousness. The Law is no longer my enemy, but an expression of divine nature written on my inner being.

7.) Lastly, there is faith, the gift that brings together grace and law. Grace-inspired obedience to the law comes only through believing that God is all that he claims to be and entrusting our lives entirely to him as we grow in that belief. I am regularly conscious of how much of an unbeliever I really am. The evidence is pretty overwhelming, revealing itself every time I’m anxious, fretful, defensive, looking for consolation for my soul in the wrong places, upset with the circumstances of my life, crabby, murmuring sotto voce or hollering flat out loud. Any and all of these features of my faith-less-ness tell me or those watching me that I am not resting in the vine; not praying the effective prayer of the desperate man (Lord, I believe; help my unbelief); not abandoning my brilliantly ineffective strategy of self-reliance – or simply being unaware that “he who helps me is near.” None of these themes is new to this blog, and I doubt that you have read the last word on them. I do think that they take on a different significance in the context of law and grace, however, since they get stuck in the middle of the push and pull of legalism/moralism and antinomianism/relativism.

How does this all matter in thinking about the law of Christ, aka, the law of liberty and the law of love? As with all laws, this means commandments and rules, and plenty of them. Forgive each other as he forgives. Don’t look at a woman lustfully (that doesn’t exempt you women gazing at men), let alone commit adultery. Don’t harbor anger in your heart, let alone commit murder. Share your bread with the hungry; clothe the naked; visit the prisoners. Practice spiritual disciplines without hypocrisy; stay away from false teachers; don’t neglect the weightier matters of God’s word – justice, mercy, faithfulness.

These are infinite rules, commandments without limits, impossible precepts, standards beyond our wildest dreams. These are not checklists, not even for a day. I’ve not yet been tempted to adultery, but don’t ask me about the deeper matters of purity. I’ve never murdered (notice I’m leaving out the tempted part), but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to see into my thoughts about those who mess up my well-planned life. Like the writer of Psalms 119, I say, “Lord, how I love your law,” but I have to confess that I generally mean that for select applications, mostly as they concern other people. If I rewrote Psalms 119, some substantial changes would be in order.

As challenging and distant as it seems, though, God’s Law is not best loved from afar. Instead, I find that grace calls me nearer and nearer, and puts in me a longing for God and his ways that almost appears to recede the closer I come. But I see that the gulf narrows if I first reach out to Jesus and approach the Father in his company – in the presence of the one who is the perfect embodiment of grace and law. Stopping, waiting, abiding, then moving with him, the branch drawing life from the vine that never fails to provide whatever I need.

For freedom he has set us free, and that is a freeing thought indeed.