I’ve always struggled to live the Christian life. Call me a dolt with an unquestionably thick skull but I’m the kind of believer that easily forgets what Christ has done for me, focusing instead on what I must do for Christ lest I incur His wrath and be smitten across the forehead with a lightning bolt, ala Harry Potter (though infinitely more hideous and not nearly as cool).

That or sometimes I just fail to obey coz, you know, it’s just so hard.

These days, by God’s grace, I’m not as passionately obsessed with sin that the gospel is eternally eclipsed. I’ve learned to glory and rest in the power of the gospel, to embrace the love of Christ than be oblivious to it.

But still there are days when the narrow way feels more like a tightrope.

I suspect that you, dear Christian friend, often feel the same way. That’s sort of how it is I guess; God bridges the chasm between His and our unrighteous selves, He saves, regenerates, and gifts us with His Holy Spirit, reassures us of His love, grants us the power to live victorious lives and what do we do? We go back to building some sorry excuse for a bridge in an attempt to connect both sides of the chasm, as if Jesus Christ were not enough, as if He has not already reconciled us to Himself.

This is human nature, of course. It is counter-intuitive to believe in a sovereign God who alone redeems us and makes us holy. It is anathema to our fallen minds that the Lord would choose to save us without ever asking us for our approval or to at least chip in and aid the process. As many of us like to quote, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. We practically fall over ourselves to contribute, to give, to do something in order that we might own our salvation.

It’s just that God will have nothing of the sort.

You see the gospel declares that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). Did you get that? Christ died while we were still sinners – rebellious people, dead in trespasses, unable to please God, indeed not even seeking Him. Salvation, in this light, is wholly of the LORD and not some cooperative effort between Creator and created. We wouldn’t have anything to do with Him, much less cooperate with salvation.

No, the gospel is an act of God, a divine accomplishment devoid of human will. And to God be infinite glory because it means He gets ALL the credit.

Charles Spurgeon explained it this way:

And if GOD does require the sinner—dead in sin—that he should take the first step, then he requireth just that which renders salvation as impossible under the gospel as ever it was under the law, seeing man is as unable to believe as he is to obey, and is just as much without power to come to Christ as he is without power to go to heaven without Christ. The power must be given to him of the Spirit. He lieth dead in sin: the Spirit must quicken him. He is bound hand and foot, fettered by transgression; the Spirit must cut his bonds, and then he will leap to liberty. GOD must come and dash the iron bars out of their sockets, and then he can escape afterwards, but unless the first thing be done for him, he must perish as surely under the gospel as he would have done under the law.

…Salvation is of the Lord. The Lord has to apply it, to make the unwilling willing, to make the ungodly godly, and bring the vile rebel to the feet of Jesus, or else salvation will never be accomplished. Leave that one thing undone, and you have broken the link of the chain, the very link which was just necessary to its integrity. Take away the fact that God begins the good work, and that He sends us what the old divines call preventing grace-take that away, and you have spoilt the whole of salvation; you have just taken the key-stone out of the arch, and down it tumbles. There is nothing left then.

A splendid summation of the doctrine of salvation, I say. I mean how marvelous, how wonderful, right? God predestined me to be saved and He did it without my contribution, and while I was a filthy blasphemer to boot. That’s what makes God so awesome; He can do what no one else can. He loves like no one else can love and saves our sorry selves to prove it.

But back to the quandary of holy living. Why do we have difficulty in living the victorious life? Why does it seem, after having acquired so great a salvation, that we’re more comfortable trying to build a make-shift bridge to the Divine when the cross has been permanently jammed between that otherwise impassable crevice?

It’s because the heart is fallen. Our default setting is to think we can earn our salvation, that somehow we can perform a righteousness that’s pleasing to God. The apostle Paul, while still a murderous rabbi, boasted a pre-salvation resume that listed achievement after flaming achievement. And yet, in Philippians 3, after acquiring a knowledge of Jesus he swiftly declared his human righteousness as dung. His accomplishments simply couldn’t compare to the righteousness of Christ, “which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith” (v9).

Did Paul struggle with sin after being saved? For sure. Romans 7 couldn’t be clearer. The real question is how’d he balance things? How did Paul, as he traversed the tightrope that is the Christian life, keep from falling into the frothy pit of legalism on one side and the bubbling pit of antinomianism (otherwise known as “extreme grace”) on the other?

Good question. Especially as this is how it’s been for the vast majority of Christians – a constant struggle in striking a happy balance between the two. Legalism or extreme grace: finding dead center is like pinning a tail on a donkey while blindfolded. And made to turn in multiple directions. With a steel ball chained to your leg.

You see, for the legalist, the Christian life is a laundry list of do’s and don’ts. Don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t dance, don’t go to the movies. Piety is defined by the barriers we erect, the strict codes we live by, and the many extrabiblical regulations these entail.

Legalism is difficult because it’s work driven by fear and powered by human flesh. The love of God and Holy Spirit have been chased out of town.

For the antinomian, the Christian life is all about grace, grace, and more grace. Forget the law; it only brings death. The antinomian isn’t interested in pondering God’s commands because he believes God demolished the law through Jesus. Or in other words, the less concerned about the law you are, the less likely you are to be caught in its trappings.

Both positions are helpful in that they spotlight good things that go a long way in helping us purse holy living. After all, the Bible DOES command us to obey God, flee immorality, and despise evil. And yes, the gospel does liberate us from the tyranny of the law and point us to a better way, namely Christ who saves us and through whom we can do all things.

And yet both positions, on their own, can be terribly destructive. Legalism wears us down, breeds self-righteousness, and pushes us away from God rather than closer to Him. It’s like munching aspirin – an awfully grim way to fight pain wouldn’t you agree? Not just that but legalism also gives rise to rebellion against God because sooner or later He’ll seem “too hard to please”. We burn out, bow out, sometimes taking almost forever to return.

Extreme grace frees us from the law, yes, but often results in a disregard for the law that leaves us vulnerable to sin. One extreme I’ve seen is a disdain for confession of sin and a reinterpretation of Luke 11:4 and 1 John 1:9 to reinforce this notion. You know you’re going off the deep-end when you reinvent theology and play origami with Scripture to make it all fit.

But what to do? Mesh the two together? Cut out all the bad parts and live by some hybrid, gospel-powered observing of the rules?

Actually, sort of.

The Bible is chock full of holy directives, positive and negative. Pray without ceasing. Love your enemies. Put on the whole armor of God. Don’t grieve the Holy Spirit. Flee immorality. Don’t be anxious for anything. These and a whole host of practical commands dot the entire New Testament.

I think it’s safe to say that God expects us to obey these commands and live pure, faithful lives.

And yet, not I but Christ, amen? Galatians 2:20 makes it clear that it is not we who live but it is Christ living through us. It’s a mystery, I confess, and I don’t think I’ll fully understand or resolve the tension of this verse while sinful and earthbound. But I do accept this truth and happily concede that God lives through me. How this pans out involves rest in the finished work of Christ, I’m sure.

But obedience is still key. Grace doesn’t nullify our obedience to His word; it empowers us to fulfill it. And while we may not perfectly obey, there’s no doubt Christ will continue to work in us to make us more like Him (Phil. 1:6).

In short, I believe we must make every effort to be holy (Hebrews 12:14), to obey Christ and to live lives that conform to the Word and its prescriptions. We simply have to make sure that this obedience is powered by the gospel. In other words we don’t obey to be accepted; rather, we obey because we are accepted in Jesus. We don’t do good works to earn salvation but we’re saved and therefore able to do good works as a result.

Will we ever find a perfect balance in this life? It’s definitely the goal. And yet I know, as a fallen creature, I’ll always veer into one of those two extremes. Thank God we have an Advocate who prays on our behalf and guarantees ultimate victory. And thank God this same Advocate, the Lord Jesus Himself, has promised not only a final day of deliverance from sin, but the grace to live in holy anticipation of it.