"The salvation of lost and sinful humanity is possible only through the merits of the shed blood of the Lord Jesus Christ, received by faith apart from works, and is characterized by regeneration by the Holy Spirit."    Evangelical Fellowship of Canada Statement of Faith

Unless you are born anew, you cannot see the kingdom of God, Jesus insists to Nicodemus (John 3:3). If we can’t even see the kingdom apart from new birth, how much less are we able to enter it? It’s no wonder that John Calvin spoke of regeneration as “the most important thing in the kingdom of God.”

Nicodemus, however, is puzzled. For how can an adult reappear in his mother’s uterus? He has misinterpreted the Greek word anothen. It can mean “again” in the sense of “one more time, a chronological repetition”; or “from above (that is, at the hand of God)”; or “remade without blemish or imperfection.” Nicodemus fastens on the first meaning only; Jesus has in mind the latter two only.

Our Lord knows that a fresh start in life is pointless if the new beginning merely reproduces the “old” man or woman corrupted by the same sin. He maintains, rather, that everyone needs a qualitatively new existence, and this can come only “from above,” as a gift of God.

While the word anothen occurs only once in Scripture, the truth it embodies is found everywhere. Paul speaks repeatedly of “new creation” and “new man/woman” and “newness of life.” Peter speaks of Christians as “newborn babes.” Jesus warns against causing “little ones” to stumble, spiritually newborn people of any chronological age.

Centuries earlier the prophet Ezekiel heard God promise a new heart of flesh, unlike the old heart of stone. Whereas the old was inert and insensitive, the “new heart and new spirit” (Ezekiel 18:31) would throb, alive unto God.

Plainly the alternative to new birth is old death, eternal death. In Christ’s well-known parable, that of the two son, the father’s joy overflows at his estranged son’s reconciliation and return from the far country. Why? Just because this  son of mine “was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”

“Dead.” “Lost.” This is the spiritual predicament of fallen men and women. It is grim. Lost to whom? Lost eternally before God. We must never reduce the gospel to a form of existentialist philosophy wherein salvation is merely rescue from being lost to oneself (people aren’t sure who they are) or from being lost concerning life’s purpose (they find life meaningless).

“Lost, dead” refers rather to our predicament before God. To be “dead in trespasses and sins” (Ephesians 2:1) is to be lost ultimately.

At the same time, since the creature has no rights or power over the Creator, we should never think that spiritual death is something we have brought upon ourselves. Death is God’s judgment upon our rebellious disobedience and our insolent ingratitude. Adam and Eve didn’t flee the garden of Eden: God’s judicial act drove them out. It expelled them and barred any attempt they might make to regain it.

Since God’s judgment has driven them away, only God’s judgment rescinded can re-admit them and reconcile them to Him. Apart from a divine act of incomprehensible mercy, the fate of humankind—“dead, lost”—is sealed. This is the reason the cross leaves all believers breathless: in the cross God acted mercifully to reconcile and regenerate those whose predicament is otherwise hopeless.

The sacrifice of God’s Son fulfils the sacrifices Israel offered for centuries. The purpose of Israel’s sacrifices was to allow sin-defiled people to approach the holy God without thereby being annihilated, as well as to render them holy in turn. Blood gathered from sacrificial victims and poured upon the altar—even poured upon worshipers—would issue in sins forgiven and hearts renewed, as Ezekiel promised.

The Day of Atonement saw two goats offered up as part of the divinely ordained prefiguration of the cross (Leviticus 16:8-15). One goat was sacrificed in the sanctuary and its blood sprinkled on the mercy-seat, where the Holy and the defiled meet. The second was driven into the wilderness, having had Israel’s sin confessed over it and laid upon it. The first sacrifice averted God’s wrath; the second bore away Israel’s sin.

Both sacrifices are gathered up in the cross. The New Testament speaks of the first as “propitiation” and the second as “expiation.” Propitiation averts God’s anger (always at God’s initiative), thus making it possible for the sinner to hear and heed the invitation to “come home.” Expiation makes it possible for the sinner to come home guilt-free.

Apostolic testimony characteristically sounds both truths. Christ’s blood has “saved [us] from the wrath of God” (Romans 5:9). At the same time the crucified one “bore our sins in his body on the tree” (1 Peter 2:24). The singular act of the cross both satisfies the Father’s judgment and bleaches our stain.

Still, all that the Saviour has accomplished for us and now longs to effect in us by the power of the Spirit comes to be ours only as we own Him in faith. Spirit-wrought faith is the bond whereby we are united to Him. We are made beneficiaries of His sacrifice and henceforth identified as new creatures.

Why is it all to be “received by faith apart from works”? The answer is simple: our “works” are our attempts at self-acquittal and self-renewal. Our works indicate that we foolishly prefer to trust our self-righteousness (no righteousness at all) instead of abandoning ourselves to the righteousness God has fashioned for us in the cross. Such attempts amount to monumental ingratitude and blind folly.

Since such attempts are themselves sin-riddled, they are patently ridiculous. Any putting forward of our own “works” is undeniably our effort at contributing to our salvation, wherein we would claim some credit. Faith, on the other hand, is our commitment to the Saviour who is Himself our salvation.

Contribution (of works) and commitment (of faith) are mutually exclusive and jointly exhaustive. Either we cling to whatever it is we want to thrust before God as a bargaining chip or we open our hand, drop what we had thought to impress Him, and seize in faith the provision He has fashioned for us. There is no other possibility.

For this reason the hymn writer had it right when he wrote, “Nothing in my hand I bring; simply to thy cross I cling.”