This past week, some of my old high school teachers asked me to serve as a judge for several of the speaking portions of a local UIL competition. These included poetry, prose, and debate. It was cool to revisit some of the very same contests I had competed in over 10 years ago now. I had a lot of fun too. And I felt kind of prestigious, being a judge and all. The kids thought I was important, and they looked nervous. I wanted to reach out to them and say: “It’s okay! I promise not to go all Simon Cowell on you. And I am not all that different from you. In fact, I currently live with my parents too!”
When it came time for the debate finals, the lead judge instructed us: “Do not judge too quickly. Let the cases speak for themselves. See who carries arguments. Wait to determine who best convinces you of their value and criterion. My best advice to you: remain impartial.”
I did my best to do exactly that. I acknowledge though that being judgmental is an issue in my life—because it is a sinful human issue. I make it an aim to never judge someone at a superficial level. I do not want to make a “fact” out of a false or hasty accusation. When left to make a final judgment, I want it to be based on truth.
Yet something about that word “impartial” stuck with me, like I was meant to learn something deeper out of this experience. It came to further clarity that night when I was reading from my current devotional book, Single Servings. In it, author Lee Warren states: “Jesus is an equal opportunity redeemer.” It convicted me.
My mind went to work: “Really? I need to put some thought into that.” Something about that statement…it just sounded too universalist at first. (For any of my theology friends reading this, I am well aware of the Love Wins rebukes right now, as well as the lively discussions on the doctrine of limited atonement in reformed circles). I went to bed with my thoughts swirling…to wake up in time for church at Hilltop Christian Fellowship.
Pastor Aaron spoke on John 4, about the woman at the well. His larger theme was the truth that Jesus quenches our thirsty souls. Yet he also observed that, in this account, as first appears to her, Jesus—a Jewish man and teacher—waits for and approaches an outcast Samaritan woman, who is a known sinner! He ignores gender customs, racial tensions, and class distinctions to minister to her—and reveal Himself as Savior. Jesus let the woman speak for herself. He showed Himself impartial in extending love and living water. He did not disqualify her as a woman, as a Samaritan, or as a servant.
And, indeed, I saw so much more when studying the word “impartial” as used in the Bible. For starters, the Gospel is not racist, classist, or sexist (Galatians 3:28). God shows no partiality (Galatians 2:6; Romans 2:11). All have sinned and fallen short. Jesus is the propitiation of our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world (1 John 2:2). We are called to go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation (Mark 16:15). We sin when we show partiality in sharing the gospel (James 2:1). And I am therefore left with the question: If all this is true, what keeps me from telling everyone who will listen about Jesus, the Living water?
Think about that for a moment. What keeps us from sharing the gospel with everyone around us? If Jesus is an equal opportunity redeemer, have we given everyone in our lives equal opportunity to hear the good news? If the answer is no, perhaps this reveals something deeper within us. Perhaps I have put chains on the gospel in my life. I have constructed barriers—whether with family members or friends or co-workers or strangers or foreigners or foes. What are the chains on my gospel? Here are some thoughts:
On a personal, ground level…
#1) Our partiality may reveal how we feel about those around us. It exposes pride and prejudice. We may sinfully label others “unworthy” of hearing it. Jonah thought Nineveh was a great candidate for wrath, but a poor recipient of mercy. We may personally deem others “unlikely” of responding anyway. That is, we have already decided, in our foolish minds, whoever will believe according to our limited estimations. We have not remained impartial. We have played God.
#2) The issue of partiality certainly, though, says something about us too. It may show that we are full of fear. We don’t want to cause a scene or lose relationships over the gospel. We hate feeling foolish. We don’t want to be impartial in sharing, because the gospel does not guarantee peace as an end result. To some, it will be an aroma of life and to some an aroma of death. And we don’t want to stink. Ever.
Even more shocking to us, because we want to suppress these kinds of convictions to keep on pretending that we are “good” Christians after all…we may not be convinced of the power of the gospel ourselves. It is a belief issue—a lack of faith in the truth. If we really believed that people would miss out on heavenly worship of Christ and spend eternity in hell without Him, wouldn’t we want to stop that from happening, if possible? If not, doesn’t that also show my even greater lack of love—that I could care less?
From a corporate, aerial perspective…
#3) It may be our theological framework that has created mental obstacles. We may spend an awful lot of time analyzing the sovereignty of God, over and against investing in the mission of God. For myself, I have been tripped up by limited atonement—the teaching that Christ only died for the elect. Perhaps I have made this an excuse for limited proclamation. While the scriptures do teach us about election, it never allows for presumption in sharing the gospel. After all, no one has been given an advanced copy of the Lamb’s Book of Life! Any complex theological thinking that hinders obedience to the simple, explicit commands of Christ needs to be re-understood.
As far as we (the body of Christ) are concerned, we go out and preach. The sheep will hear His voice and lift their heads. But we don’t tag the sheep—He does. Our job is to sow liberally—to spread the seed broadcast. We plant and water; He gives the growth. We work and then sleep. God, who never sleeps, causes the harvest to spring forth.
We shout: “God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes will not perish but have everlasting life.” Yet we sing knowing that whoever believes is contingent not upon human will, but upon His mercy (Romans 9:16). Our joy is found by faithfulness in sowing (our part); His glory is shown by fruitfulness in reaping (His part).
In that, we strive to give everyone around us common grace to get a fair hearing of the full gospel. We work knowing that Jesus is an equal opportunity redeemer—in the sense that His salvation story and eternal redemptive plan includes some of every nation, tribe, tongue—every class, race, sex**—every age, body shape, and skin color. Within every group, there is a remnant set apart for His praise.
**Note that I didn’t say every religion. The gospel is not Universalist, in that all will be saved in the end anyway or that everyone faithful to their own belief system will gain entrance to heaven. Much could be said about the inclusive and exclusive nature of the gospel. It is inclusive in that Jesus says: “All who enter by Me shall be saved.” It is exclusive in that: “There is no other name under heaven by which we are saved.”
#4) It could be our mission strategy that has limited our scope. We are right to recognize the effectiveness of contextualization and indigenous church planting movements. There is something to the thought: “Maybe the gospel comes best from those who already eat and think and act and speak the way they do.” But effective strategy was never said to trump gospel power! God uses anyone to share the gospel with everyone.
We are the most relevant when we are the most loving. And interest in the gospel can actually be increased by someone from the outside coming in, and saying “I know you don’t know me, but I am here to tell you something amazing, out of love—God wants people of all tribes and nations to be His children!” Beside, if we never send cross-cultural missionaries, who will reach the unreached—those who have no Christians in their culture to share the gospel? How will they hear without a preacher?
I once listened as a church member asked a street evangelist, who passed out tracts everywhere he went, “What about divine appointments? Shouldn’t we wait until God’s perfect timing to share?” The evangelist replied: “Certainly, there are times when God appoints harvest. That’s when people respond and believe. But that is due to the sowing—the prayers, the prior conversations, the exposure to the gospel. I sow every day because of God’s sovereignty. He has appointed the times and the places in which we live. That means, every person He puts in my path today is by appointment!”
He went on to say: “There are times when security is a factor. We may not be able to pass out the tracts or raise our voices, because it isn’t wise. But we can still pray. Prayer is an important part of harvest too. We ask the Lord to send more workers!”
…
The Gospel is unchanging. Its power is always relevant. But, in my life, I now see that the gospel needs unchaining. As I go forth, into all the world—not just my little world—I pray that I share with the whole creation—not only part. Note to self: remain impartial!
“And also pray for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak.” – Ephesians 6:19-20
“Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David, as preached in my gospel, for which I am suffering, bound with chains as a criminal. But the word of God is not bound!” – 2 Timothy 2:8-9
