To The Very End

Have you ever noticed how some people just never give up?

The husband of a friend of mine just biked from Vancouver back home to southwestern Ontario. Over 4000 km. Up and down three mountain ranges. Across the prairies. Through the Canadian Shield. Kilometre after kilometre after kilometre. Pedal stroke after pedal stroke after pedal stroke. For four weeks. He just never gave up.

I would have quit. I would have hit that first mountain range (if I made it that far) and my backside and legs would have been sore, and I would be tired already, and I would have looked way, way up, and it would be too hard, and I would quit.

Or the four guys who decided to row across the Atlantic Ocean, from Senegal to Miami. Yes, row. In a rowboat with no motor or sail in sight. They almost made it, too, until a rogue wave capsized their boat and sent them scrambling for their life raft. They had gotten pretty much nine tenths of the way across. Six weeks alone in the Atlantic Ocean with nothing but water and sky surrounding them, kilometre after kilometre after kilometre. Oar stroke after oar stroke after oar stroke. For six weeks. They just never gave up.

I would have quit. I would have rowed for two days and realised I could still see the African shore from whence I had come, and my backside and entire body would have been sore, and I would be tired and seasick and claustrophobic (think of being with three other people on a tiny rowboat), and I would have looked way, way out into an endless sea of blue, and it would be too hard, and I would quit.

Most of us would quit. But some people just never give up.

I'm beginning to see that people who don't quit are the exception.

We buy a gym membership and within two months have stopped going.
We start a diet, and it lasts two days or two weeks or two months, and then we go back to eating the way we always did.
We start saving, and we save until the next shoe sale.
The people who start a thing and see it through to the end, who not only begin well but end well, are the exception rather than the rule. Most of us just don't hold on to the end.

And while I might, and do, give up on many things, there is one thing I pray that I never give up -- my faith.

I realise that statement opens up a massive theological debate that has raged for hundreds of years. All the Calvinists are crying out, "You can't lose your salvation! Salvation is based on the divine election of God, and if God sovereignly decrees to redeem you,  you shall be redeemed. Period." I get that. I believe it. There are enough texts in Scripture that speak about God's election and my salvation that I can't not believe it.

But then there are the texts like Hebrews 6:4-6:  "It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit, who have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the coming age and who have fallen away, to be brought back to repentance." It's not the only text that suggests that we can fall away. And while we can debate the theoretical nature of that falling away (we can fall away, but we won't), it is enough to give me pause. It is enough to make me say, "There is one thing I pray that I never give up -- my faith." I want to hold on. I want to persevere. I want to finish well.

And that's what the author of Hebrews is driving at, too. He goes on to say, "We want each of you to show this same diligence to the very end, so that what you hope for may be fully realized. We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised." To the very end. Day by day, step by step, moment by moment, until Jesus calls me home. It's not enough to say that I'm never going to lose my salvation. I can sit in my comfortable chair on my soft backside and rest in my comforting Calvinist theology, but the fact is Scripture doesn't allow me to do that. "We want you to show this same diligence to the very end. We do not want you to become lazy."

Trust me, I want to quit.
When I want to be happy and God is more interested in my holiness, I want to quit.
When I want what I want and not what God wants, and the two are not the same, I want to quit.
When I want to entertain this thought or this dream, even though I know it's not "obedient to Christ" (2 Cor. 10:5), I don't want to take it captive. I want to give it free rein. I want to indulge in it. I want to make excuses and think that God will understand. Surely he wants me to be happy. What harm will it do? I'm tired of trying to fight it. If God doesn't want me to think this way, he should just take the thought away. It's not like I don't believe. I still believe. Why should I have to be so holy, when Tom, Dick, and Harry, Sally, Sue, and Samantha get to have their fun and God doesn't seem to mind? It's just so hard!

And it is. It is hard. It makes me want to quit. It makes me want to entertain the thought that, after all, I'm saved, and I can't lose my salvation, so now I can just live my life the way I want. Like a normal person, not like some whacko holy judgmental Bible-thumper who can't enjoy a naughty little thought or habit once in a while. What harm can that do, anyway, when my salvation is secure?

"It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy spirit, who have tasted the goodness of the Word of God and the powers of the coming age and who have fallen away, to be brought back to repentance . . . . We want each of you to show this same diligence to the very end."

One of my profs once said, "A saving faith is a persevering faith." How do I know I'm elect? Because I am saved. How do I know I'm saved? Because I persevere. But if I do not persevere? If I deliberately and willfully choose to walk away, to indulge in sin when I know it to be sin just because I want to? A saving faith is not a one-time prayer. It's not the faith of yesterday. It's not the faith of tomorrow. A saving faith is a persevering faith. If I do not persevere, perhaps my faith was never a saving faith.

It's not merely a theological question. It's not about a theological system. It's about the choices I make today, in this moment. Choices to obey rather than to disobey. Choices to follow rather than to fight. Choices to do things God's way even when it hurts, or it's hard, or it's exhausting - and it can be all of those things. Choices that recognise that my choices do matter, that somehow, even though God is supremely sovereign over my life, he has created me with free will, and I must be diligent every moment and to the very end to exercise my free will for him and not against him.

Because it does matter. It matters supremely. I know me. I know how easy it is to quit.

And I pray to God that I never quit.

"Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,

Prone to leave the God I love.

Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it,

Seal it for thy courts above."