In my last post, I discussed my frustration with generic appeals to truth. Of course, I believe there is objective truth to the universe, God, and his system for redemption. But who has this truth? This is what Christians have been arguing over for centuries. Did God give us church authorities who would guide us through the Holy Spirit? Did he mean for us to read Holy Scripture and come to our own determination and what the truth is? If we are deciding between those choices, I answer yes to the first question and not the second. Each person can’t be his own arbiter of truth. We aren’t demigods who create our own reality.
This is the true failing of Protestantism: they have no Magisterium. They are fractured into thousands of pieces because of a lack of authority. Each one was begun by a man who believed himself to be the arbiter of truth. Sometimes, these men were simply idealists who believed they alone knew how to arrive at the purity of the early church. There are still idealists like that floating around today, many of whom simply call themselves nondenominational and start a new group of churches [group being very, very different from denomination] based off their purity model. Others simply go their own like the dudes of the manosphere and expect others to be “red-pilled” into their model…if they’re enlightened enough to see the truth. It becomes difficult to parse.
Insanity Bytes had mentioned in a comment to my previous post that humans do best when given concrete truths they can grasp. She quoted Jesus: “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No man comes through the Father except through me.” She’s absolutely correct. The personhood of Jesus is the ultimate truth. He is why we are Christians. His act on the cross, his dying for humanity and rising from the grave, is why we have a reason to hope in God and the afterlife.
Amen and amen.
Now what? How do we know if we are saved? How do we live our lives as Christians? Of course, the Bible answers these questions, but they are precisely the kinds of questions Christians argue over when they have no church authority to answer them. If all Christians are filled with the Holy Spirit, how do we all come to different interpretations of Holy Scripture? I’m not going to lie. I’m more analytical and logical than I’d like to be. I don’t prefer this type of confusion that extends to the very roots of our faith, such as how do we know we’re saved? It unsettles me that there isn’t one clear answer.
Years ago, I had Reformed voices niggling at my soul, making me question my salvation. If salvation was only for an Elect, I would surely not be it. How could I be? I’m pathetic compared to other humans. I’m not bold, attractive, or dynamic. Despite how harrowing it was, I could understand the case the Reformed Christians made from Scripture. I could also recognize the Arminians had a solid case. On a scale of unsettling doctrine, Arminian doctrine was much less so. But choosing the least comfortable doctrine is not my way. I prefer certainty. And I didn’t have it. It was terrible.
In this particular circumstance, God settled the answer for me. No, he didn’t tell me which of these doctrines was correct; instead, on a sleepless night, he spoke to me in an audible voice: My sheep hear my voice. He told me in no uncertain terms that I belonged to the Good Shepherd. I had heard his voice. Audibly — in the middle of the night, when disembodied voices shouldn’t have been speaking to me at all. I’m not sure there is a proper time for disembodied voices.
God’s voice settled my spirit, but it didn’t answer the doctrinal questions I had. How are we saved? What does it mean to be born again? I don’t know; I’ve never had a specific salvific moment, as some Protestant sects like to say. I’d never uttered the sinner’s prayer. I’d heard the gospel proclaimed in church in my childhood, believed it, and tried to follow God’s path for my life. I was also baptized.
And yet, for all that, I know there are people right now who still don’t believe I’m saved. I know this because they’ve told me. They’ve witnessed to me and tried to compel me to do whatever it is they think is the proper method of following Jesus – their definition of “born again.”
This happened to me recently, actually, at a nondenominational church our family used to attend together. I would attend Mass before the nondenominational church service and otherwise kept my affiliation with the Catholic church quiet. If somebody asked, I told them; I wasn’t going to lie about it, but neither did I want to start a debate. As far as I know, the woman who tried to save me at that church had no idea that I was a Catholic. If she’d known, I’m sure she would have used it as evidence against me.
To this day, I don’t know what she thought I was missing. She only said that she sensed I wasn’t truly saved. I explained to her that I’d been a Christian all my life, that I’d always felt the call of Christ and had responded to it. But, no, that can never be enough for Protestants who require an act or a cathartic moment: responding to the altar call, praying the sinner’s prayer, etc. It was confounding to me, as though the demonic forces were at work trying to shake the faith God had given to me in the dark of night. It came right at the cusp of churches opening up again, and I was seeking his will by going to a prayer group I’d been invited to. It was frustrating to be preached at and prayed about in the group. The other ladies there didn’t know any better and simply assumed I wasn’t a Christian because their leader was praying for my conversion.
I had to stop going for the sake of my sanity. I also stopped going to that particular church, but that was mostly because my Protestant husband had lost interest in attending church. He gets burnt out on formal church services. Based off that kind of experience, I don’t blame him! I wanted to tell the woman to get behind me Satan, but I figured she wouldn’t understand and take offense. Thinking back on it, she might have needed to hear it regardless.
What does it mean to be saved? If I supplied an answer, it would look like this: repenting, believing the gospel, and following Jesus. There is enough biblical proof of that definition, surely. But what does it mean to be born again? Is there a mysterious act that makes one born again? Is so, what it is? What about baptism? The Catholic church would say yes to that, but only with a few clarifications. After all, the imagery in the Bible, from Jesus’ own mouth, is that we must be born of both water and the spirit.
I’ve put to rest many of my questions over the years. Still, I’m always curious what others think. What do you think it means to be born again? How do you know you are saved? What brings you certainty?
Jill Domschot 
“I’m not bold, attractive, or dynamic.”
Oh heavens, Jill, neither am I. The fact that modern American culture is hypnotized by the charismatic salesman can’t be overstated. We equate it with moral value: if someone doesn’t “do anything for us,” it’s worse than an enemy. At least enemies make us feel something. We are equally addicted to the constant dopamine hits and visual stimuli brought about by any kind of video you could watch, with few exceptions.
About being born again, that just means your spirit has been awakened. I say “just” like it’s nothing at all, but it’s really the first step in what we could call salvation. In a logician’s terms, we could say it’s “necessary but not sufficient” for salvation. I don’t think we can actively choose God by our efforts; God alone makes that first move, though I think we have some participation in taking the first step. Similarly, we probably have some “say” in how that process plays out after that but I don’t get caught up in the exact mechanics. How we participate in that is beyond communication.
Can’t answer the question as to how we can know we are saved, because I think the answer is different for everyone. It’s communicated to us by conviction, not by externalities or reasoning. I think the question missing the point. I would rather ask “what does God require of me now?” because I those answers are readily available to us.
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I don’t mean to impute God with human standards, but it’s hard to shake the reality that humans make, even in churches. Churches want dynamic people to be chosen. God sees what we don’t see, though.
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No, you’re right. My issue isn’t with that quality, but it’s the idea that people who lack charisma are deficient, or that they are passed over for their other qualities or strengths, or that they need charisma (more charisma = more holiness). It’s so ingrained that people might think they’re not good enough for ministry, or for Pete’s sake, not good or real Christians because they lack it. I’ve known a few people personally who have thought as much, about themselves and others.
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I went to a special guest service at the Protestant church I mentioned in my blog post, wherein the guest pastor gave prophetic words to people in the congregation. Surprise, surprise when the special prophetic words were only for the popular, tall, dynamic people that are easier to read than a quiet old lady with a walker, or a stoic man who shows up every week but doesn’t display outward fervency. God forgive me if I’m wrong, but it felt like a magician working a crowd and not like God’s inspiration at all. It was weird. I’d never been to that type of service before.
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I’ve been to a few of those services, thankfully none as bad as you describe. I’m going to assume that the “prophetic” words were all positive, “you are going to do great things,” predictive of future events, type of things? Scripture demonstrates that those things aren’t all that common, I think because they don’t actually help or “refine” people.
A lot of what it termed “prophecy” in scripture addresses moral failing, and what the moral failures will lead to. “If you keep going this way, Israel will come to ruin,” etc. And it’s usually not in front of a crowd, but more personal in its scope. How awesome would it be if someone prophecied over a married couple, for instance, and told them what they were doing wrong so they are aware of what could happen? Really personal stuff:
“You think too highly of yourself and you are spiteful towards your husband. He’s gonna commit suicide in three years if you don’t help him.”
“Your anger issues and porn addiction are destroying your family and your wife will file in a month if you don’t repent soon, and you’ll never see your kids again.”
No one wants to hear that, though, and if God were disciplining His children that’s what I’d expect to hear from a prophet. But you are right: that’s the magic of salesmanship, to make people feel good about themselves. When those dopamine receptors are active, people seek pleasure and spend money.
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I guess they might have passed the baskets at that service; I really don’t remember. But yeah, it was pretty much all positive, about how God had given them great gifts and would use them in powerful ways, etc.
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