The Slowness of Sanctification
I love the feeling of walking barefoot across the newly scrubbed floors each Sunday morning—no more crumbs poking at my feet, Cheerios being crushed under my heels, or sticky spots gluing my socks to the floor.
One Sunday morning as I came out from the bathroom, I walked through the kitchen (where my husband and son had already eaten breakfast) and stepped in gooey oatmeal. As I bent down with a cloth to scrub the floor, I discovered a spotted trail of coffee leading from the counter to the table and crumbs from boiled eggs sprinkled next to me.
Am I really scrubbing the floor again already? Later that evening I swept the kitchen floor from the messy supper we had eaten and gawked at the pile of dirt I had collected. How does so much dirt accumulate in one day? We vacuumed and mopped Saturday night—shouldn’t I be free from cleaning these floors even for a few days?
Do you ever think of your sanctification in the same terms? Shouldn’t I be “good enough” now? Haven’t I endured adequate hardships? Haven’t I gone to war with enough sins? Haven’t I reached a decent level of holiness? Shouldn’t I be immune to the devil’s temptations now? C.S. Lewis prodded my own heart on this in Mere Christianity:
When a man turns to Christ and seems to be getting on pretty well (in the sense that some of his bad habits are now corrected) he often feels that it would now be natural if things went fairly smoothly. When trouble comes along—illnesses, money troubles, new kinds of temptation—he is disappointed. These things, he feels, might have been necessary to rouse him and make him repent in his bad old days; but why now? Because God is forcing him on, or up, to a higher level: putting him into situations where he will have to be very much braver, or more patient, or more loving, than he ever dreamed of being before. It seems to us all unnecessary: but that is because we have not yet the slightest notion of the tremendous thing he means to make of us.¹
I’ve share those feelings Lewis described. Why is God still prodding at me? I’ve accomplished a lot. How much more needs to be done in my heart?
The answer: so much more. These kinds of thoughts reveal that we don’t truly understand the magnificent holiness of God, and that holiness to which he has called us. God has asked me to be holy as he is holy. How holy is God? He never even contemplates sinning. Holy means 100% separate from sin. God is perfect, completely unlike us in our floundering, sin-filled nature. His anger is always righteous, his judgments always perfect, his love always pure. Yet even our acts of goodness are often tainted by sin. God is so holy that we cannot behold him with our eyes, otherwise we’d perish (see Exodus 33:20). God didn’t have to go through sanctification to become holy—he has, is, and always will be holy because it’s his nature to be holy.
Yet, what does God say to us? “Be holy as I am holy,” (1 Peter 1:15-16). Matthew Henry comments on this passage, “We must be holy, as God is holy: we must imitate him, though we can never equal him. He is perfectly, unchangeably, and eternally holy; and we should aspire after such a state. The consideration of the holiness of God should oblige as to the highest degree of holiness we can attain unto.”² When I consider the holiness of God, there’s no possible way I can be that holy. I am and always will be a work in progress. There’s no such thing as perfection here on earth. I’m not sure if I will ever go a day without sin of some kind in my heart or actions.
This is where grace and forgiveness and justification become oh so amazing. What we have just heard is the law, but now we get to hear the good news of the gospel: Jesus Christ came to earth as fully man and fully God to live, breathe, and think the perfect life for us, yet took the deadly punishment our sins deserved. He died, was buried, and rose again that we may enter his glory in eternal life. By his work, we are freed from sin and brought into this process of sanctification by which God, in his grace, works in our hearts to make us more like him. As Matthew Henry wrote:
The grace of God in calling a sinner is a powerful engagement to holiness. It is a great favour to be called effectually by divine grace out of a state of sin and misery into the possession of all the blessings of the new covenant; and great favours are strong obligations; they enable as well as oblige to be holy.³
Though we feel as if we are labouring each day to be more holy, ultimately it’s God who is enabling us to be holy by his grace. Because he saved us and continues to work in our hearts, we in turn are able to obey and persevere in the faith. He gives us strength, guidance, encouragement, and reproof. This doesn’t mean we will reach perfection, but we should always keep stretching our fingertips upward towards it—not in our own power, but in God’s grace alone.
The floors will be dirty again, and honestly it will happen pretty quickly. My toddler will throw his sweet potato on the floor, my husband will track in sawdust from work, and I will spill dry oatmeal on the floor while I’m baking. This is life. The floors will always have to be cleaned. Likewise our lives will continue to need prodding and scraping (discipline, trials, reproof, and further study) to make them more reflective of our holy God we worship. Don’t lose heart—press on dear friend. He’s the workman, you’re the recipient of grace.
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C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York, NY: Harper Collins, 2001), p.205
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Matthew Henry, Zondervan NIV Matthew Henry Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Harper Collins, 1992), p.756-757
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Ibid.
