Posts tagged ‘Jesus’
Sermon Extra – Grace Is Why
This past weekend in worship at Zion, we looked at Numbers 12 and the jealousy of Moses’ siblings, Miriam and Aaron.
Miriam and Aaron were key leaders among God’s people. Miriam was a prophetess. Aaron was Israel’s high priest. God had spoken through them and used them profoundly and powerfully. But, in Numbers 12, instead of rejoicing in how God had used them, they became resentful of how God was using Moses.
They grumbled, “Has the LORD spoken only through Moses? Hasn’t He also spoken through us?” (Numbers 12:2).
In response, God explained:
“When there is a prophet among you, I, the LORD, reveal Myself to them in visions, I speak to them in dreams. But this is not true of My servant Moses; he is faithful in all My house. With him I speak face to face, clearly and not in riddles; he sees the form of the LORD.” (Numbers 12:6–8)
God does not deny that He has spoken through other prophets. He has. But He makes it clear that Moses’ calling is unique.
When God speaks through other prophets, He usually does so mystically — through dreams, visions, and riddles. But with Moses, God speaks “face to face, clearly and not in riddles.” With Moses, there’s not a foggy divine impression to interpret, but a clear divine Word to proclaim.
God’s meeting with Moses on Mount Sinai is proof positive of this. In Exodus 20–31, Moses receives the very words and commands of God for the people of Israel. Moses is not just one more voice among many. He is the Lord’s chosen servant through whom God directly gives His very Word.
As God explains Moses’ unique calling, He also offers this compelling compliment: “He is faithful in all My house” (Numbers 12:7).
Miriam and Aaron may have been faithful in their respective callings within areas of God’s house, but Moses was entrusted with a responsibility that extended to all of God’s house. He was called to lead, shepherd, intercede for, and speak God’s Word to the whole Israelite community.
Some 1,500 years after God calls Moses to be a servant in all of God’s house, the preacher of Hebrews explains that, as lofty as Moses’ calling was, there is One whose calling is even greater:
“Moses was faithful as a servant in all God’s house, bearing witness to what would be spoken by God in the future. But Christ is faithful as the Son over God’s house.” (Hebrews 3:5–6)
With one preposition, the preacher draws an important distinction. Moses was faithful in God’s house. Jesus is faithful over God’s house. Moses was born into God’s house as a son of Israel. Jesus was born over God’s house as the Son of God.
And then, the preacher of Hebrews adds this prodigious promise: “And we are His house” (Hebrews 3:6).
In the book of Numbers, God’s house is centered on the children of Israel. But now, the preacher of Hebrews declares that anyone — whether or not they are a son or daughter of Israel by birth — can be part of God’s house because they have been invited not merely as a son of Israel, but by the Son of God.
Jesus has created a whole new household. He takes sinners who were far from God and brings them near. He takes people estranged from God and makes them members of His family.
Miriam and Aaron were jealous because they did not have the same role, authority, or intimacy with God that Moses had. But Moses was not jealous that, one day, another would come whose role, authority, and intimacy with God would far surpass his own.
Instead, Moses demonstrated humility. As Numbers 12 reminds us: “Now Moses was a very humble man, more humble than anyone else on the face of the earth” (Numbers 12:3).
Jealousy always leads to misery because it looks at what I do not have and complains, “Why not me?”
Humility leads to joy because it looks at what God has given and asks, “Why me?”
The question of jealousy never finds a satisfying answer. Why does someone else have that gift, that role, that opportunity, that recognition, that authority, that blessing? That is something that we simply cannot know.
But the question of humility has a clear answer.
Why has God shown me mercy? Why has Christ brought me near? Why am I part of His house?
Grace is why.
And grace gives us more than enough reason to rejoice.
Sermon Extra – When Judah Came Near
This past Sunday, we kicked off a summer-long series at Zion on the book of Numbers. The book opens with the Israelites at the foot of Mount Sinai, where they have been camped for almost a year while Moses has been meeting with God and receiving His commands, including the famed Ten Commandments.
Now it is time for Israel to continue their trek through the Sinai wilderness. Before Israel breaks camp, however, God commands Moses to conduct a census. In Numbers 1, we get a list of tribes and clans, along with the number of men of fighting age in each tribe. In Numbers 2, we get instructions for how these tribes are to be arranged around the tabernacle—the place where God graciously promised to dwell among His people.
The picture above is my favorite depiction of the tribal arrangement from Numbers 2. To be clear, we don’t know exactly what this arrangement would have looked like. Numbers 2 does not say that the tribes were arranged in rectangles that fanned out perpendicular to the tabernacle. Still, the visual of the arrangement forming a cross is at least fascinating and fun to imagine.
What is clear from the instructions in Numbers 2 is that the tribe of Judah was stationed on the east side of the tabernacle, toward the sunrise, closest to the entrance:
“On the east, toward the sunrise, the divisions of the camp of Judah are to encamp under their standard.” (Numbers 2:3).
But between Judah and the tabernacle stood another small group: Moses, Aaron, Aaron’s sons, and other Levites. Their calling was to guard the sanctuary from unauthorized approach:
“Moses and Aaron and his sons were to camp to the east of the tabernacle, toward the sunrise, in front of the tent of meeting. They were responsible for the care of the sanctuary on behalf of the Israelites. Anyone else who approached the sanctuary was to be put to death.” (Numbers 3:38)
In other words, even though God dwelled in the midst of His people, direct access to Him was carefully—and lethally—guarded. Judah camped near the entrance, but Judah could not simply walk in.
But one day, someone from the tribe of Judah did walk in.
Jesus, a descendant of Judah, waltzed into His Father’s house like He owned the place. Even as a child, He told Mary and Joseph, “Didn’t you know I had to be in My Father’s house?” (Luke 2:49). But Jesus did more than come near to God’s house. He opened the way for us to come near to God Himself.
The preacher of Hebrews declares, “For it is clear that our Lord descended from Judah” (Hebrews 7:14). A few verses later, he says of Jesus, “He is able to save completely those who come to God through Him” (Hebrews 7:25).
Under the old covenant, unauthorized approach to God’s sanctuary meant death. But Jesus, the One from Judah, approaches God for us. And rather than barring sinners from God’s presence, He brings sinners into God’s presence. He does not put us to death when we draw near. He saves us from death when we draw near through Him.
How can Jesus do this?
Because Jesus is not merely a man from the tribe of Judah. He is also the God who dwelled in the tabernacle all along. Hebrews opens by saying, “The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His being” (Hebrews 1:3). John says it this way: “The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us” (John 1:14). The phrase “made His dwelling” is the verbal form of “tabernacle” in New Testament Greek. The Word “tabernacled” among us.
Jesus can bring us into the presence of God because He is the presence of God.
So, even if the tribes of Israel did not arrange themselves in the form of a cross some 1,500 years before the cross, their arrangement nevertheless points us toward the One who would die on the cross. The God who dwelled in the tabernacle came as a man from the tribe of Judah. And through Him, we are invited to draw near to God.
Judah could not simply walk into the tabernacle.
But Jesus, the Lion of Judah, did.
And now, we can.
Sermon Extra – When Being With Jesus Feels Agonizing
Right now at Zion, we’re in a series on the afterlife. This past weekend, I had the heavy and unenviable assignment of preaching on the Bible’s teaching—and warning—about hell.
One of the things I did not mention in my message is that a recurring description of hell is that it is a place of “gnashing of teeth.”
Consider these passages:
- “The subjects of the kingdom will be thrown outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Matthew 8:12)
- “They will throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Matthew 13:42)
- “There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Matthew 13:50)
- “Throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Matthew 22:13)
- “He will cut him to pieces and assign him a place with the hypocrites, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Matthew 24:51)
- “Throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Matthew 25:30)
- “There will be weeping there, and gnashing of teeth, when you see Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, but you yourselves thrown out.” (Luke 13:28)
The phrase “gnashing of teeth” is deeply sobering because it is not only a picture of the final judgment of God. It is also a human response when they are in present and violent rebellion against God.
The first martyr in the history of the Christian Church was named Stephen. He was stoned to death after calling out a group of religious leaders for their rejection and crucifixion of Jesus. When Stephen accused them of resisting the Holy Spirit and betraying and murdering the Righteous One Jesus, their rage boiled over:
“They were furious and gnashed their teeth at him… They all rushed at him, dragged him out of the city and began to stone him.” (Acts 7:54, 57–58)
There’s that phrase “gnashing of teeth” again.
These religious leaders were not yet in hell. But when they heard the truth about Jesus, they reacted with the response of hell.
This helps us understand something critical about hell.
Hell is not merely something God consigns someone to against their will. Hell is also the tragic, yet logical end of a will that refuses God. It is judgment upon a heart that is so opposed to Jesus that even the presence of Jesus feels like torment.
C.S. Lewis famously described hell this way: “The damned are, in one sense, successful rebels to the end. The doors of hell are locked on the inside.”
In other words, people willingly––and madly––consign themselves to and lock themselves inside the gates of hell.
This is why Acts 7 is so haunting.
For these religious leaders, Stephen’s message was, well, hell. The announcement that Jesus is the Messiah did not sound like good news to them. It sounded like an accusation. It sounded like a threat. It sounded like an unjust and unwarranted condemnation of everything they believed in, stood for, and fought for.
To those who hate Jesus, even the presence of Jesus feels like hell.
But this reality reveals a jarring spiritual conundrum. Stephen’s message about Jesus felt like hell. But being away from Jesus is even more hell.
As the apostle Paul writes in 2 Thessalonians 1:9, those who reject Jesus “will be punished with everlasting destruction and shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of His might.”
This is the terrible paradox of hell. If you do not trust in Jesus, it doesn’t matter if you are with Him or away from Him––both feel like hell.
But if you do trust in Jesus––that is when you begin to discover heaven. Because that is when you begin to discover that Jesus is not against you, but for you; not a threat toward you, but a comforter who is with you; not merely a judge of you, but a Savior who willingly gives Himself to you.
This is why, according to Scripture, heaven is not finally about clouds, harps, mansions, or streets of gold.
Heaven is as simple as being with Jesus.
The One whose presence exposes our sins––as He did through Stephen with the religious leaders in Acts 7––is also the One whose wounds on the cross forgive our sin. So come to Jesus. Trust in Him. Because to those who do, the presence of Jesus is not hell.
It is heaven.
And heaven is infinitely better than hell.
Sermon Extra – When Guilt Won’t Go Away
In my message this weekend, I talked about how Israel’s worship of the golden calf in Exodus 32 became a watershed and guilt-inducing moment for literally centuries in ancient Israel.
For instance, ancient Jews paid an annual half-shekel tax for the upkeep of the temple in Jerusalem. Jesus references this tax when He instructs Peter: “Go to the lake and throw out your line. Take the first fish you catch; open its mouth and you will find a four-drachma coin. Take it and give it to them for my tax and yours” (Matthew 17:27). The coin Peter finds is equal to a shekel––enough to pay the tax for both Jesus and Peter.
But this tax was not merely about maintenance. It was also tied, in later Jewish interpretation, to malfeasance. A Jewish collection of sermons known as Midrash Tanchuma connects the half-shekel tax to Israel’s sin with the golden calf: “Because they had violated the Ten Commandments,” and specifically the First Commandment when they made the calf, “each one had to give ten gerah, which totals half a shekel” (Midrash Tanchuma, Ki Tisa 10:1). The tax became, in this tradition, a way of reckoning with guilt for a sin committed centuries earlier.
Another tradition, which I did not mention in my message, notes that on the Day of Atonement, the high priest of Israel, who usually sported a jewel-encrusted golden breastpiece, would enter the inner sanctum of the temple wearing simple white linen garment, according the instructions first given Moses in Leviticus 16:4. Later rabbinic interpretation explains why: “For what reason does the High Priest not enter the innermost sanctum, the Holy of Holies, with his golden garments to perform the service there on the Day of Atonement? It is because a prosecutor cannot become an advocate” (Babylonian Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 26a).
In other words, because gold had been used to forge Israel’s most infamous idol, the high priest could not wear gold while making atonement for Israel. The material associated with Israel’s accusation could not also be worn in Israel’s defense.
It is striking that both of these traditions arose long after the golden calf catastrophe. Guilt over this one sin lingered for a long time.
Have you ever struggled with guilt that just will not go away? Maybe it’s guilt over the cross word that became the beginning of the end of a relationship. Maybe it’s guilt over a failure as a parent. Maybe it’s guilt over an old decision you’re still terrified someone will discover.
When Moses first walks into the golden calf calamity, he says, “Perhaps I can make atonement for your sin” (Exodus 32:30). But Moses’ best efforts at atonement fail. In the end, “the Lord struck the people with a plague because of what they did with the calf Aaron had made” (Exodus 32:35).
Atonement for sinners by another sinner—even if that sinner is a man as great as Moses—never works.
This is why, at the heart of the Christian faith, there is an atonement made not by Moses on a mountain, but by Jesus on a cross. Not by a sinner doing his best, but by the sinless Son of God giving His life.
Only Jesus can make atonement for sinners. And because He has, the guilt you feel is not spiritually real. Your payments, rituals, self-punishment, and refusal to forgive yourself cannot do what Jesus has already done. He has forgiven you. And His grace is greater than your guilt.
You do not need to keep paying for what Christ has already covered.
How Are We Justified?
When Jesus tells the story of two men who go up to the temple in Jerusalem to pray, He relays two prayers that couldn’t be more different. One man, a Pharisee, prays:
God, I thank you that I am not like other people – robbers, evildoers, adulterers – or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get. (Luke 18:11-12)
The tax collector, to whom the Pharisee refers in his prayer, is the other person who prays at the temple that day. His prayer consists simply of:
God, have mercy on me, a sinner. (Luke 18:13)
In his prayer, the Pharisee compares himself to other people and judges himself better than them. The tax collector compares himself to God and finds himself infinitely lacking, so he asks for mercy from Him. The Pharisee believes he is like God and unlike other sinners. The tax collector confesses he is utterly unlike God and worse than other sinners.
After describing these two prayers, Jesus declares:
I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. (Luke 18:14)
Jesus says that the tax collector, and not the Pharisee, leaves the justified before God. Why? Because the tax collector looked to the righteousness of God to justify him. The Pharisee only looked at the sinfulness of others and justified himself compared to them. The Pharisee tried to justify himself before God by using others. The tax collector realized if you want to be justified before God, you need to be justified by God.
It is far too easy to try to justify ourselves like the Pharisee tried to justify himself by using others. But true justification comes not by using others, but by trusting Jesus. May we find our justification in the right place – which is in the Righteous One.
On Pet Rocks
During the Christmas season of 1975, the gift to get was a pet rock. Marketed as “genuine” and “pedigreed,” and sold at $4 a rock, this fad made its originator, Gary Dahl, a millionaire. The fad didn’t last, though, because even though pet rocks are very low maintenance, they don’t do what other real pets do. They won’t purr when you pet them like a cat. They won’t follow you around the house like a dog.
But what if one did?
The apostle Paul summarizes Israel’s journeys through the wilderness when writing to the Corinthians:
For I do not want you to be unaware, brothers, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea, and all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, and all ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual Rock that followed them, and the Rock was Christ. (1 Corinthians 10:1-3)
Wait, a rock followed Israel through the wilderness?
Paul is alluding to two stories that serve as bookends for Israel’s wanderings in the wilderness. In Exodus 17, at the beginning of the Israelites’ journey, Moses strikes a rock at Horeb and water pours out of it for the people to drink. Then, in Numbers 20, Moses also strikes a rock, though God had commanded Moses to speak to the rock this time, and water again pours out.
Paul picks up on these two stories and surmises that there must have been one water-filled rock following Israel around through the wilderness. But the real key comes in his identification of that rock: “the Rock was Christ” (1 Corinthians 10:3). Israel’s rock was much more than just a pet. It was a person – the same person who said:
Let anyone who is thirsty come to Me and drink. Whoever believes in Me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them. (John 7:37-38)
Jesus, Paul declares, followed Israel through the wilderness – providing for them, caring for them, and ultimately, being gracious to them.
When we experience our own wilderness moments – when our souls feel dry and our lives feel difficult – we can rest assured that we have a Rock who follows us into even the driest and most treacherous moments of our lives to water our parched souls and comfort us by His presence.
Our Rock is Christ.
The Clergy Crisis
Over the past several days, I have had multiple conversations about clergy who have fallen from their positions in disgrace and sin. Hearing such stories always breaks my heart because such clergy often wind up victimizing those for whom they are called to care and scandalizing the Church.
Sadly, this kind of crisis is nothing new. In Leviticus 8 and 9, God instructs Moses to appoint and ordain priests to offer sacrifices to God on behalf of Israel. Everything begins well. When Aaron, the first high priest of Israel, offers an ox and a ram to God:
Fire came out from the presence of the Lord and consumed the burnt offering and the fat portions on the altar. And when all the people saw it, they shouted for joy and fell facedown. (Leviticus 9:24)
But the joy of Israel does not last for long. In the very next verse, we read:
Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu took their censers, put fire in them and added incense; and they offered unauthorized fire before the Lord, contrary to His command. So fire came out from the presence of the Lord and consumed them, and they died before the Lord. (Leviticus 10:1-2)
These two priests did not carry out their duties faithfully, but contrarily to what God had commanded. And they paid dearly for it. From almost the very moment the clergy was instituted, they sinned and created a crisis.
When two brothers, Cain and Abel, offer sacrifices to God, God is pleased with Abel’s sacrifice, but rejects Cain’s. Cain becomes incensed and begins to plot to kill his brother. God, knowing what was in Cain’s heart, warns him:
If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it. (Genesis 4:7)
Sometimes, sin seems most enticing at the very moment one is doing something spiritual – whether offering a sacrifice like Cain, or leading a church like a pastor. The religious leaders of Jesus’ day are the archetypes of this temptation. Those who appeared to be the most spiritual were also deeply sinful. As Jesus says of them:
Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean. In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness. (Matthew 23:27-28)
Ultimately, what we have seen among many clergy should serve as a warning to us all. Outward spirituality does not automatically indicate inward sanctification. For the sake of the Church, may we pray for those who lead us – that they would lead well. And may we pray for ourselves as well. Whether we are leading worship services are attending them, Satan plants sin at our door. Thankfully, at just the moment Satan seeks to lure us through that door into sin, Jesus steps in and says:
I am the door. (John 10:7)
He is the One who can rescue us – all of us – from our sin. This is why, in the Church, we trust in Him.
Take Your Sin to the Right Place
One of the most tragic stories in Scripture is that of Judas Iscariot – the one who betrayed Jesus into the hands of His enemies and, ultimately, His executioners for a pitiful pittance of 30 pieces of silver. Shortly after Judas leads the Jewish religious leaders to Jesus so they can arrest Him, he is overwhelmed by the anguish of his guilt:
When Judas, who had betrayed Him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. “I have sinned,” he said, “for I have betrayed innocent blood.” “What is that to us?” they replied. “That’s your responsibility.” So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself. (Matthew 27:3-5)
Judas’ actions against Jesus are treacherous and wicked. But this does not make his end any less tragic.
Part of what makes Judas’ end so devastating is that he understood the gravity of his actions and began looking for a path to redemption. He rushed back to the ones who had paid him the paltry sum of silver and confessed:
“I have sinned,” he said, “for I have betrayed innocent blood.”
But the religious leaders only lobbed his sin right back on him.
“What is that to us?” they replied. “That’s your responsibility.” (Matthew 27:4).
“That’s your responsibility.” These are the most damning words anyone can speak to any sinner. They remove every hope for redemption, restoration, or reconciliation. This is why it is so important that we not only feel remorse over our sin, but take our sin to the right person.
I have often wondered what would have happened if Judas would have taken his confession to Jesus. How would Jesus have responded? Here’s my guess:
“Judas, you mean the world to Me. I’ll take your sin to the very place to which you betrayed Me. But it is no longer your responsibility.”
Are you overwhelmed by remorse, guilt, or shame? Take it to Jesus – no matter what it is. He will take it from you and, in exchange, give you freedom, forgiveness, and righteousness.
One more thing: if you, like Judas, struggle, for whatever reason, with thoughts of taking your own life, seek help. Whatever it is that is leading you into these thoughts, Jesus wants more for you. Jesus wants life for you. He died so that you can live.
Knowing Thyself
On the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, there is inscribed a famous maxim: “Know thyself.” But knowing one’s self can be hard. Solomon writes, “The purposes of a person’s heart are deep waters” (Proverbs 20:5). In other words, we often don’t understand our own hearts – our own selves. Or, as the apostle Paul puts it: “I do not understand what I do” (Romans 7:15).
Knowing thyself is key. After all, if we do not understand ourselves – including our hidden motives and perverse incentives – it will be very difficult for us to love others rather than use them. So, what is the key to knowing ourselves better?
Scripture gives us some critical practices to help us know ourselves. The first is that of confession, or self-examination. In confession, we grapple with what we know we’ve done wrong – those things that nag us with guilt and regret. The lie we told. The lust we indulged. The addiction we engaged. The person we hurt. Confession brings the parts of ourselves we would rather pretend not to know into the light. It is the first step to knowing ourselves.
But there is more. For we need not only confession, but counseling, or cross-examination. Oftentimes, our motives are so mixed, or our sin becomes so opaque to us, that we cannot see it for what it is. We become strangers to ourselves. We have all had the experience where we offended someone, often justifiably, and we did not even know it because we did not see how our words or actions hurt others. Those who counsel us – and not just professionally, but as friends, spouses, and neighbors – can help us identify our blind spots. After Solomon writes, “The purposes of a person’s heart are deep waters,” he adds, “but one who has insight draws them out” (Proverbs 20:5). We need people of insight around us to draw out what we cannot ferret out for ourselves.
Both of these practices can help us know ourselves. But, of course, knowing yourself is quite different than liking yourself. When we become aware of the depth of our brokenness and sin, it can be easy to fall into despair or self-loathing. This is why one more practice is needed – that of compurgation.
Compurgation was an early common-law method of trial in which a defendant could be acquitted on the endorsement of friends or neighbors. In other words, if enough people interceded for someone who had been accused of a crime, he could be exonerated on his friends’ testimony.
The apostle Paul asks:
Who is the one who condemns? No one.
Paul says that no one can condemn us in our sin. Why? Because:
Christ Jesus who died – more than that, who was raised to life – is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. (Romans 8:34)
Christ is the one who testifies on our behalf. And His testimony is all we need to be exonerated by being forgiven through Him. His compurgation is enough.
So then, who are we? We are children of God through Christ. We are sinners by nature, yes. But we are also saints through faith. How do we know this? By knowing ourselves – and, even more importantly, by knowing Christ.
Two Kinds of Self-Righteousness
In our society, little is more despised than someone who is “self-righteous.” No one, it seems, wants to be someone or likes anyone who fits the stereotype of a self-righteous person – proud of their own moral success and judgmental of those who they judge to be morally inferior. And yet, as much as we may despise self-righteousness, we still fall prey to it, often without even knowing it. Self-righteousness, it turns out, is sneaky.
One way that many people have sought to address the scourge of self-righteousness is by dismissing the notion any ultimate righteousness. In this way of thinking, if someone does something you would consider “wrong,” it is excused by calling it “right for them.” Righteousness gets relegated to the realm of personal preference.
But this, too, is its own form of self-righteousness. After all, when we say righteousness is defined by what is “right for me,” we are defining righteousness for ourselves, which, by definition, is self-righteousness.
What Christianity offers is not a righteousness that judges others, but nor is it a righteousness that we create for ourselves. Instead, it is a righteousness that is given freely through Christ. As the apostle Paul writes:
Righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. (Romans 3:22)
The Christian does not self-righteously condemn and judge others because Jesus did not condemn and judge him. Instead, He forgave him. But the Christian also does not make up the rules as he goes, for what matters is not what is right for him, but what is right to Jesus. His righteousness is what the Christian looks to for guidance and for salvation. The only true antidote to self-righteousness, then, is Jesus’ righteousness.
His is a righteousness worth sharing.
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