But if that’s what Paul said in those verses he’d be contradicting himself, because in 2 Corinthians 3:8-9 he says it’s the “ministry of the Spirit that brings righteousness,” and in verse 18 that we “are being transformed into his (Christ’s) likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” So, where does our spiritual formation come from? From the Lord. Who’s transforming us into Christ’s likeness? The Holy Spirit. And whose ministry creates righteousness? The Spirit’s. There is no talk here about us playing any part at all in our righteousness or transformation into Christ’s likeness. Our spiritual formation and growth are entirely the work of the Spirit.

For Paul to even hint that spiritual growth involves something we do would open him up to being asked the same question he challenged the Galatians with in Galatians 3:3: ”Are you so foolish? After beginning with the Spirit, are you now trying to attain your goal by human effort?”

The Galatians had been depending totally on the “miracle-working Spirit (verse 5)” for their spiritual growth – but now they were reverting back to depending on their own efforts. Some Christians today, however, would support what the Galatians were doing, because, they say, the effort of spiritual disciplines is necessary for “stirring” the Spirit. In other words, the Spirit will work more effectively in our lives if we’re doing our part better – like if we pray more, study more and obey more, then the Spirit will be stirred to do more too.

But that’s exactly what the Galatians thought and Paul called them “foolish”! That’s why he asked them, in verse 2, ”Did you receive the Spirit by observing the law, or by believing what you heard?” Did the Spirit work miracles in their lives because of their obedience or their belief in the gospel – which? Oh, they knew! It was their belief, and nothing more.

And that’s why I say “bah humbug!” to New Year’s resolutions, because our spiritual growth is entirely the work of the Spirit, not human effort, and the only thing needed for stirring that miracle-working Spirit in our lives is belief in the gospel. It’s only foolish people (says Paul) who believe they can grow spiritually by their own resolve and willpower.

But is that what Paul’s talking about in 1 Timothy 4:7?

No, it isn’t. There are many Christians of late who say it is, however, who use that verse to prove that spiritual disciplines are necessary for all Christians as our part in our spiritual growth and formation. But the context says nothing of the sort. In context, Paul is not issuing a general command to all Christians to discipline themselves for spiritual formation, he’s specifically advising a young minister, Timothy, in how to conduct his ministry.

He’s talking to Timothy, mentor to student, advising Timothy to “be diligent (verse 15)” in both his life and teaching to help protect the people in his care from being deceived. He’s encouraging Timothy to be a “good minister of Christ Jesus (verse 6)” by sticking to the “truths of the faith” and the “good teaching” he’d received to combat “deceiving spirits (verse 1)” that were influencing people into believing and teaching “godless myths and old wives’ tales (verse 7).”

This is an older minister’s personal advice to a young minister facing some real challenges in his churches. “So, watch your life and doctrine closely,” Paul tells Timothy in verse 16, “persevere in them, because if you do, you will save both yourself and your hearers” – “save” here in context meaning protect the Christians in his care from deception by demons. Paul knows what Timothy is up against, so he’s encouraging Timothy to keep his life well-grounded at all times in the truths he’d been taught, because that’s what Timothy had been gifted as a minister for, to inspire the church by his example (verse 12), his teaching (verse 13) and his progress (verse 15).

Unfortunately, 1 Timothy 4:7 – just like 1 Corinthians 9:27 - has been used to create the idea that we play a part in our spiritual formation, and that it’s necessary for us to discipline ourselves to make ourselves godly. But that is not what Paul is talking about in either of these verses, and if it was it would contradict what he says elsewhere (see part 3).

And wasn’t that what Paul was recommending in 1 Corinthians 9:24-27? He compares himself in these verses to an athlete preparing for competition: “Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training,” he writes in verse 25, and in verse 27, ”I beat my body and make it my slave.” That sounds like a regime of strict self-discipline and bashing oneself into shape by willpower and resolve – like a New Year’s resolution, no less! And many Christians have interpreted these verses to mean exactly that too – that we must do our part in our spiritual formation by disciplining ourselves in various spiritual exercises, like prayer, meditation and Bible study.

But is that what Paul meant?

No, it wasn’t, as the context clearly shows. Paul’s talking about the job he’s been given of preaching the gospel, not describing life as a Christian. “Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel,” he writes in verse 16, and talking of bringing his body into slavery, it’s in the context of verse 19: ”I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible,” and in verse 22, “I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some.”

The context is clear, verse 23: “I do all this for the sake of the gospel.” And if we finish off verse 27, it says, “I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.” And what prize is he talking about? Verse 18, ”What then is my reward? Just this; that in preaching the gospel I may offer it free of charge.”

That was the prize he was “beating his body into submission” for. It was to get the gospel out effectively to win as many people as possible, without ever having to charge for it. He wasn’t talking about daily life as a Christian, nor was he even hinting at something like a New Year’s resolution as our part in our spiritual growth. So is there anywhere else in Scripture that hints at New Year’s resolutions being a part of our Christian walk? (continues in part 2).

OK, so we’re loved, but what makes us loveable? What turns us from being rabid enemies of God to actually becoming really nice children of his? What does he deeply appreciate in us? We know it’s not trying to win his favour by good works, or trying to impress him with how pious we are, or by how many rituals, disciplines and rites we perform, but what “IS to my Father’s glory,” Jesus said, is “that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples,” John 15:8. That’s clear: what makes us loveable to the Father is when we follow his Son. And Jesus adds a note of affection of his own to that when he says, “You re my friends if you do what I command,” verse 14. Follow Jesus and he loves us to bits too, verse 10.

So how do we follow Jesus? We do what he commands, just as he did what his Father commanded him. So what does Jesus command us to do? “Love each other as I have loved you,” verse 12. It’s all about love: God loves Jesus, Jesus loves us as God loves him, and we love each other as Jesus loves us. And this is clearly what the Father loves because “all of what I’m telling you,” Jesus says, “I learned from the Father,” verse 15. Father and Son, they love us to bits when we love each other. And to show how much our Father appreciates us loving each other he’ll give us whatever we ask for in Jesus’ name, verse 16.

It’s only just dawning on me, then, what kind of relationship we’ve got with the Father when we follow his Son. We are totally loveable to him. I realize that Jesus has to live his love in us for us to be loveable, but we can rest assured that even if just the desire is there in us to love others, we are utterly loveable to the Father. And knowing we’re loveable, as well as loved, is where our joy comes from, verse 11.

But God helping those who help themselves sounds so wise and logical. Surely God’s more likely to come to the aid of someone who exerts some effort of his own, right? Sophocles certainly thought so when he said, “Heaven ne’er helps the men who will not act.” In other words, action from us must precede any expectations of help from God.

Well, that may be the God of Sophocles but it’s not the God of Paul. That’s because Paul tried to help himself and discovered he couldn’t. Every time he tried to help himself he came up against this other power inside his head “waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin,” Romans 7:23. The harder he tried the worse it got. He realized, eventually, that “nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature,” verse 18. Up against his sinful nature he was helpless.

But that’s where we’re all at. Right from the time Adam and Eve blew it in the Garden of Eden, humanity as a whole has proven itself to be helpless. And now we’re stuck in a world of sin and death (8:2), stuck with a sinful nature so powerful that even God’s law can’t contain it (verse 3), and stuck with a mind that’s hostile to God and cannot please him (verses 7-8). We’re also stuck with fear (verse 14), frustration and futility (verse 20) and weakness and ignorance as well (verse 26).

We’re a pathetic, helpless mess. But realizing that can bring us to the same point Paul was at when he cried out “Who will rescue me from this body of death?” – because that was the point God helped him. It wasn’t from Paul helping himself but from realizing he couldn’t help himself. God doesn’t help those who help themselves, he helps those who recognize they can’t help themselves.

But it’s not so bad being helpless and dependent on God, because “in all things God works for the good of those who love him,” verse 28. He loves us depending on him because he can work things out so much better for us than we can.

One source quoted is Aesop’s fable of Hercules and the Waggoner, from 6th century Greek mythology. The Waggoner couldn’t free his cart stuck in the mud and prays to Hercules for help. Hercules replies, “Tut, man, don’t sprawl there. Get up and put your shoulder to the wheel. The gods help them that help themselves.” In other words, don’t just sit there expecting the gods to do all the work, get in there and do what you can for yourself and then the gods kick in. In modern evangelical jargon, it’s “God won’t steer a parked car,” meaning there has to be action on our part for God to help us. Or, that God only acts on our behalf, or grants us his favour, if we show some initiative and exert some effort ourselves first.

If that’s true, though, does that mean the opposite is also true, that God doesn’t help those who don’t help themselves? Or that if we don’t do our bit, God won’t kick in with his bit, or that Hercules won’t help Waggoners who don’t put their shoulders to the wheel?

But if God only kicks in if we do our bit first, what happens if we can’t do our bit, like we can’t pray because we’re too upset or angry? We desperately need his help but our prayers feel empty and useless. Does God not help us until we pray? But we can’t pray, that’s the point, so now what happens?

Well, first of all God understands our dilemma, Romans 8:26, where Paul writes ”We do not know what we ought to pray.” Hey, it happens. We have no idea how to pray about a situation, or we’re too frazzled to pray at all. So what happens now? Fortunately, “the Spirit himself intercedes for us.” The Spirit doesn’t wait until we can help ourselves – he’s quite willing to go ahead and help us when we can’t help ourselves. And that’s the God that Paul focuses on, not the gods of Greek mythology…(continued in Part 2)

It reminded me of the tricks people play when it comes to Fate Watchers. Fate Watchers is for all those who are worried about weighing in on Judgement Day, who fear that day because, they believe, that’s the moment their fate is decided forever – and what if they’ve fallen short of expectations? In other words, Fate Watchers is just like Weight Watchers: there’s a price to pay if you’re overweight, and especially if you’re heavy on sin! So Fate Watchers come up with religions that supply them with all kinds of clever tricks to shave off the bad bits in their lives to improve their chances in the afterlife.

The tricks are a waste of time, of course, because the Judge knows all, but we give it a try anyway, like the fellow in Matthew 7:22 who says, “Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?” Nice try, but the Lord’s having none of it. “I never knew you,” he replies. “Away from me, you evildoers.”

But surely miracles are good for a few points on the Fate scales, aren’t they? No, they’re not. But if miracles aren’t good enough, what about all the other tricks that religions tell us will improve our chances on Judgement Day, like obeying the ten commandments, praying five times a day, doing good deeds, or creating mega churches? And if casting out demons doesn’t cut the mustard with Jesus Christ, then what does casting out bad habits by self-discipline and willpower do for us? Isn’t there anything we do that counts at weigh-in time?

Yes, there is: faith, Colossians 1:23. But faith in what, though? Faith that we are “holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation” because we’ve been reconciled to God “by Christ’s physical body through death,” verse 22. At weigh-in time we come only with the cross, because God accepts our trust in that. That’s how our “alienation from God” and “being his enemies because of our evil behaviour,” verse 21, are dealt with. There’s nothing else needed.

At Fate Watchers, the sign over the door should say, “No Tricks Needed,” because there’s no need to resort to all those tricks religions come up with to scrape us under the wire on Judgement Day. Imagine if weighing-in at Weight Watchers was so easy!

What have we done to ourselves to create such a culture, where even the most basic of human pleasures and needs is an afterthought or even a nuisance? But it happens, and it happened to Jesus and his disciples, too. There were “so many people coming and going,” Mark 6:31, ”that they did not even have a chance to eat.”

To some people that’s a good sign, though – all that productive work being done, everyone’s time filled up to the brim with creative ideas, and growth statistics off the chart. It’s addictive. But so addictive it’s hard to stop. And to Jesus that wasn’t good, because right in the middle of all that wonderful growth and action, he tells his disciples, “Come rest a while.” It had gone far enough. A person can be so busy that his mind turns against him, forcing him to keep working at such a frantic pace it actually threatens his physical survival.

But isn’t work and being as productive as possible the sign of a life well lived? To a point, yes, but there’s also a point at which work becomes counterproductive, the sign of which is no interest in or time for food, and that’s when Jesus pulled the plug. “Let’s go to a quiet place and get some rest,” he said.

Not exactly the Protestant work ethic, though, is it?! But Jesus wasn’t a Protestant, fortunately, so work wasn’t everything. To him, taking time out to rest was fine, a revolutionary thought, I imagine, for many Christians hooked on church growth and huge attendance figures.

If we don’t rest, though, we’ll be forced to. The body has a marvellous defence mechanism for dealing with an overactive mind. It gets sick. It pushes blood pressure up to alarming levels and causes all kinds of embarrassing things to happen, like fainting at lecterns, spouting drivel at important meetings, and making one’s face puff up and turn blotchy. It also has a nasty habit of collapsing and dying just when things are at their most exciting. How inconsiderate!

Jesus, however, was considerate. He knew his disciples had reached their limit, and even when things were looking great – all those people coming and going and showing huge interest in them – it was time to go to a quiet place. It was fine with him to “rest a while.”

I was intrigued, therefore, years later, when I heard about “The greatest train journey ever.” It was a train of remarkable proportions, racing through history for hundreds of years, stopping in every century to pick up passengers. From what I read in the brochure it had all the promise of the train journeys I’d loved as a youngster, so when it drew into the station to pick up passengers in my century, I eagerly jumped on board.

I found myself in a compartment with several passengers already in serious conversation together. Noticing me, they immediately beckoned me over. “Do you know what this journey is all about, young man?” one of them asked me rather sternly. I admitted that I didn’t. “Well, you should,” he replied, “because if you want to stay on this train you have to know the rules and regulations.”

So they took me through the list of rules and regulations. “Do all those,” the person said, handing me the list, “and that’s your ticket to the end of the line. If you don’t follow them exactly, the Inspectors take away your ticket and out the door you go at the next station.”

This didn’t sound like the train journeys I’d come to love at all, I thought. On those journeys I simply went for the ride and the train got me to where I was going. Trusting the engine driver was ticket enough to get me there safe and sound. So I had to say something in reply: “But it says here in The Greatest Train Journey Ever brochure that ‘the one who calls you is faithful and he will do it‘, not me and keeping all these rules and regulations.”

“Where’s it say that?” one man asked briskly. “1 Thessalonians 5:24 it says in the brochure,” I replied. “Does it now?” he said. He took out his glasses and peered at the brochure. He read it out loud, along with 1 Corinthians 1:8 and 1 Thessalonians 3:13. He looked up and said, “You know, I never realized that’s what the Bible said, so from now on I’m going to sit back and enjoy the journey.” “Interesting you should say that,” another man replied, “because it says in the brochure here – in 1 Peter 1:8 - that’s what this journey’s for.”

     Which is odd, because if we couldn’t stop sinning before, what suddenly makes us capable of stopping sin now? What changed? Well, in my experience, nothing changed. I’m still who I am. Sin still exerts a strong influence on me, just as it did before. It creeps up on me unawares, I obey its evil desires and, unfortunately, my body is often an “instrument of wickedness” still.

     But something did change. Christ was raised from the dead. And the reason he came back from the dead was to lift us up with him, verse 8, so that we could “live to God” just like he does, verse 10. Jesus didn’t leave us on the sidewalk clutching his death as our only means of dealing with sin, he also gave us his life. As we travel through this life, then, we discover we have two first-aid kits with us when sin does us damage, not just one, and both of them are with us wherever we go.

     In one kit we carry the saving power of Christ’s death, and while we carry it, sin will never have mastery over us ever again. It doesn’t matter how many times we mess up, sin can never kill us. But sin isn’t dead, it’s still alive. It can’t kill us but it’s all around us every step we take. It’s like a wood full of blood-sucking insects constantly buzzing round your head. You can swat a hundred of them but a hundred more take their place. That’s sin. There’s no getting away from it, and it could drive us mad with frustration and despair, but that’s when we feel the reassuring handle of the other first-aid kit, given to us when Jesus came back from the dead, because in that kit we carry the saving power of Christ’s life.

     And while we carry that kit, we will always live to God. Even in our worst moments of weakness, when it looks like sin has total mastery of us and we’re the worst Christians on Earth, we’re still thinking of God, aren’t we? We can’t forget him. It might be only the tiniest spark, but we’re still “alive” to him, verse 11, and we hate what we’re doing. Well, that’s Christ’s life in us…