We saw in chapter 3 that holiness is being like Christ. We saw in chapter 7 that being like Christ is possible only for those who are in Christ. Now I want to turn the sanctification diamond to another facet and argue that those in Christ should make it their aim to grow in fellowship with Christ. We must always remember that in seeking after holiness we are not so much seeking after a thing as we are seeking a person. The blessings of the gospel—election, justification, sanctification, glorification, and all the rest—have been deposited in no other treasury but Christ. We don’t just want holiness. We want the Holy One in whom we have been counted holy and are now being made holy. To run hard after holiness is another way of running hard after God. Just as a once-for-all, objective justification leads to a slow-growth, subjective sanctification, so our unchanging union with Christ leads to an ever-increasing communion with Christ.
UNION AND COMMUNION
Several years ago our church adopted a new statement of faith. In one of the articles we talked about “union” and “communion” with Christ. An astute member asked if those two words weren’t redundant—don’t “union” and “communion” really say the same thing? True, they are related; but they are not synonymous. Union with Christ is the irrevocable work of the Spirit. Once united, nothing can separate us from Christ. Nothing can make us a little more or a little less united. Union with Christ is unalterable. Communion with Christ, on the other hand, can be affected by sin and unresponsiveness to God’s grace. It’s like marriage: you can’t be more or less married (union) but you can have a stronger or weaker marriage (communion).Our relationship with Christ can also deepen when we attend to the divinely appointed means of grace. Or to put it somewhat paradoxically, we who enjoy saving fellowship in Christ ought to cultivate a growing fellowship with Christ. As Calvin says, “Not only does [Christ] cleave to us by an indivisible bond of fellowship, but with a wonderful communion, day by day, he grows more and more into one body with us, until he becomes completely one with us.”
I don’t want to belabor the point, but it’s important we understand that communion with Christ is predicated on union with Christ and not the other way around. Some mystical and contemplative traditions emphasize communion with Christ without paying sufficient attention to how we are first joined to Christ by faith. The call of the gospel does not begin with an invitation to meditate on Christ or lose oneself in God. The gospel announces the person and work of Christ and then calls us to trust in his person and work. As Sinclair Ferguson points out, “Contemplation is not the way of salvation; atonement is.” We cannot bypass the central apostolic categories of incarnation, redemption, substitution, propitiation, reconciliation, and justification and go straight to communion with God. The summons of the gospel is not to meditate or contemplate, but to repent and believe. Only through this exercise of faith can we have union with Christ. And then from this union it is our privilege and responsibility to pursue deeper communion with Christ.
By communion I simply mean fellowship with Christ. In his brilliant work Communion with God (1657), John Owen takes four hundred pages to unpack how we can have communion with each distinct member of the Trinity. The Father’s special communion with us is love; the Son’s communion is grace; and the Spirit’s communion with us is comfort. The book demonstrates at length that “communion” is an all-encompassing and complicated theme. But thankfully, behind all of Owen’s dense prose is the central and rather simple thesis that communion with God consists of “mutual relations” between God and us. So when I speak of communion with Christ I mean strengthening our relationship with him. As our communion deepens, we enjoy sweeter fellowship and interchange with him. We grow in knowledge of him and affection for him, and we experience more richly his love and affection for us. And most crucially (for our purposes), as we deepen our communion with Christ—seeing and savoring his grace more and more each day—we also obey Christ more fully and more freely.
KEEPING COMMANDMENTS, ABIDING IN LOVE
It’s tempting to see communion with Christ and the pursuit of holiness as opposite approaches to the Christian life. You can just imagine one group of Christians insisting on a personal relationship with Jesus and another group saying, “No, no, it’s all about obeying Jesus.” One group claims the other is legalistic, while that bunch of Christians says the first group is too caught up in subjective mumbo-jumbo.
But the Bible allows for no such division between communion with Christ and obedience to Christ. In fact, it’s very hard to tell the two apart. In John 15, Jesus tells the disciples, “Abide in me, and I in you” (John 15:4). “I am the vine,” Jesus says, “you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing” (v. 5). Christ abides in us, and we must abide in him. But how do we abide in Christ? Verses 9–11 explain that we abide in him by obeying him. If we obey Christ’s commandments, we will abide in his love (v. 10). This mutual indwelling—Christ in us and we in Christ—cannot be separated from personal holiness. D. A. Carson puts it well: “God remains among us and in his people by renewing them with his life, with his Spirit, and making his presence known in them and among them (cf. 14:16, 23); they remain in him by obeying his commands.”
Of course, we must be careful not to impose a strict temporal order between abiding and obeying. If we do, we’ll make the mistake of thinking that we need to obey before we can abide. Or just as bad, we’ll tie ourselves up in knots trying to abide with all our heart before we get around to obedience. The reality is the two are virtually synonymous. We obey as we abide and abide as we obey. Frustrated believers need to be reminded that they will bear fruit only as they are connected to the Vine. Apart from Jesus they can do nothing (vv. 5–6). Likewise, lazy believers need to be reminded that if they are serious about remaining in Christ’s love and experiencing abundant life they must get serious about obeying the Father’s commandments (vv. 10–11). Fellowship with Christ does not exist apart from fealty to Christ.
We see this connection just as clearly in John’s epistles as we do in his Gospel. If we abide in Christ we must walk in the same way he walked (1 John 2:6). No one who abides in Christ keeps on sinning (3:6). Whoever does not love does not have eternal life abiding in him (3:15). Whoever keeps the commandments abides in God and God in him (3:24). If we love one another, God abides in us and we abide in God (4:12, 16). As we’ve already seen, John is not telling us to be morally flawless. There is an Advocate we can fly to for forgiveness (1:9; 2:1). But finding assurance in Christ is no excuse for presumption when our lives are marked by apathetic (or defiant!) disobedience to Christ. The verb “to abide” occurs more in John’s writings than in all the rest of the New Testament combined. He wants us to see that fellowship with Christ is wonderfully possible in this life and in the next. But this fellowship must be given practical proof. A complete disregard for holiness indicates that we do not have fellowship with Christ and are not in him. Conversely, walking with Christ and enjoying communion with him involves walking as Christ did and keeping his commands.
FOUR PRACTICES FOR ONENESS WITH CHRIST
If communion with Christ is essential for holiness, must result in holiness, and sometimes seems to be virtually identical to holiness, we would do well to consider how we can deepen that communion. Or to put it another way, if union with Christ means it is our privilege and responsibility to pursue communion with Christ, what do we actually do to enrich and enjoy this communion?
Part of the answer is nothing. We don’t do anything. But God does a lot of things to us, with us, and through us. Our feelings go up and down. Our sense of closeness fluctuates. But God is always there. He has a way of sanctifying us apart from our conscious effort. He quietly brings events and conditions into our lives that humble us, purify us, and draw us to Christ. Quite often, God uses suffering to smooth out our rough edges and break down our streak of independence. We may not be aware of any particular patterns that have led us to Christ, but over the years we may find that indeed our love for Jesus is stronger, our relationship with him is firmer, and our sense of his presence is stronger. Even in the dark times and dry seasons, we will find that God has been working all along. In thinking about our fellowship with Christ we must never imagine that Christ is hiding in a corner, waiting for us to break through his hard exterior, just hoping we’ll pay attention to him. He is constantly reaching out, wooing, speaking, entreating, moving, and standing at the door to knock (Rev. 3:20).
If part of the answer is nothing, then another part of the answer must be something. True, Christ works, often imperceptibly, without our knowing participation, to draw us closer to himself. But we also have a role to play. Just as in any relationship, there are practices we must develop and work hard at if we are to grow in our communion with Christ.
(1) We pursue communion with Christ through prayer. It’s easy to demonstrate from the Bible that we must pray. Jesus made it a priority to pray (Mark 1:35). He taught his disciples how to pray (Matt. 6:5–13). We are commanded to “continue steadfastly in prayer” (Col. 4:2) and even to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thess. 5:17). If there is one thing Christians all agree on, it’s that God wants us to pray.
And if there is another thing Christians all agree on, it’s that we feel guilty about not praying more. I doubt there has ever been a Christian who got to the end of his life and thought, “You know what, I’m glad I didn’t spend more time in prayer.” We all know we should pray and we all want to pray—or at least we want to want to. But we all know from experience that “ought to” is not enough to get us to pray consistently. What’s missing is this element of communion. It’s not enough to screw up our resolve, set the alarm fifteen minutes earlier, and mumble through a few more minutes of prayer so that we can feel good about our spiritual disciplines. We need to understand that time spent in prayer is time spent with our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend. Communion is the goal, not crossing off a line on our to-do list.
Consider two different exhortations to prayer. The first is from William Law (1686–1781) in A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life:
I take it for granted, that every Christian, that is in health, is up early in the morning; for it is much more reasonable to suppose a person up early, because he is a Christian, than because he is a labourer, or a tradesman, or a servant, or has business that wants him. . . .
Let this therefore teach us to conceive how odious we must appear in the sight of Heaven, if we are in bed, shut up in sleep and darkness, when we should be praising God; and are such slaves to drowsiness, as to neglect our devotions for it.
For if he is to be blamed as a slothful drone, that rather chooses the lazy indulgence of sleep, than to perform his proper share of worldly business; how much more is he to be reproached, that would rather lie folded up in bed, than be raising up his heart to God in acts of praise and adoration! . . .
Sleep is such a dull, stupid state of existence, that even amongst mere animals, we despise them most which are most drowsy.
He, therefore, that chooses to enlarge the slothful indulgence of sleep, rather than be early at his devotions to God, chooses the dullest refreshment of the body; before the highest, noblest employment of the soul; he chooses that state which is a reproach to mere animals, rather than exercise which is the glory of Angels.
That’s one way to entice the believer to pray. Here’s another, this time from Thomas Goodwin (1600–1680):
Mutual communion is the soul of all true friendship; and a familiar converse with a friend hath the greatest sweetness in it . . . (so) besides the common tribute of daily worship you owe to (God), take occasion to come into his presence on purpose to have communion with him. This is truly friendly, for friendship is most maintained and kept up by visits; and these, the more free and less occasioned by urgent business, or solemnity . . . the more friendly they are . . . We used to check our friends with this upbraiding. “You still (always) come when you have some business, but when will you come to see me?” . . . When thou comest into his presence, be telling him still how well thou lovest him; labour to abound in expressions of that kind, than which . . . there is nothing more taking with the heart of any friend.
Which approach will serve you better over the long haul? William Law makes me deathly afraid of the snooze bar. Thomas Goodwin makes me want to pray. Who wouldn’t want the happiness of drawing near to God? Who doesn’t delight to tell secrets and converse with a friend? Prayer (this side of heaven) will always be hard and will always take discipline, but when I see it as a means to communion with God, it feels more like a “get to” than a “have to.”
(2) We pursue communion with Christ through the word of truth. Earlier we saw from John 15 that abiding in Christ entails obedience to Christ. In the same passage Jesus also connects his words with abiding. “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you” (John 15:7). Notice how Christ’s words are synonymous with his person. We take hold of Christ as his words take hold of us. Mutual indwelling involves more than just obedience. It also “entails a growing absorption of Jesus’ teaching” into our heads and hearts.
It’s unfortunate that some church leaders and scholars like to shame Christians for making too much of the Bible. “We worship Jesus, not words on a page” is how the barb usually goes. Well, of course, we don’t bow down before ink and paper. But don’t think for a second that making much of the Bible is somehow antithetical to heartfelt communion with Christ. One of the recurring themes in 1 John is that we abide in Christ by letting the apostolic deposit of truth abide in us. It is only when we confess that Jesus is the Son of God, that God abides in us (1 John 4:15). If we do not have the truth about the Son, we do not have life (2:23; 5:12). Those who truly belong to God listen to his inspired, apostolic messengers (4:6). Doctrine is not a distraction from Christ. In fact, we do not have communion with Christ apart from truth about Christ and from Christ. We are sanctified in the truth, and God’s Word is truth (John 17:17).
(3) We pursue communion with Christ through fellowship with other Christians. Because the church is the body of Christ, we cannot have communion with Christ without also communing with our fellow Christians. Fellowship within the family of God is one expression of communion with Christ. John says, “that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ” (1 John 1:3). That’s a remarkable statement. No matter how goofy or insignificant your church may seem, fellowship in that body of believers is fellowship with God. Those serious about communing with Christ will be diligent to share in fellowship with other Christians (Acts 2:42; Heb. 10:24–25). In more than a decade of pastoral ministry I’ve never met a Christian who was healthier, more mature, and more active in ministry by being apart from the church. But I have found the opposite to be invariably true. The weakest Christians are those least connected to the body. And the less involved you are, the more disconnected those following you will be. The man who attempts Christianity without the church shoots himself in the foot, shoots his children in the leg, and shoots his grandchildren in the heart.
(4) We pursue communion with Christ through partaking of the Lord’s Supper. It’s not surprising that in thinking about communion with Christ I would talk about prayer and the Word and fellowship. These are basic expectations of the Christian life. But some of you may be surprised, even concerned, that I would put the Lord’s Supper on the list. You shouldn’t be. After all, don’t we regularly refer to this sacrament or ordinance as “communion”? Paul said “the cup of blessing that we bless” is “a
participation in the blood of Christ” and “the bread that we break” is “a participation in the body of Christ” (1 Cor. 10:16). The word “participation” (or “communion” in the KJV) is a Greek word you may be familiar with: koinonia. According to the Bible, when you come to the Lord’s Table in faith, you have koinonia with Christ. You fellowship with him and participate in his body and blood.
The Lord’s Supper is not only a visible reminder of the gospel, it is a spiritual feast where Christ is present as both the host and the meal. His presence is not physical, but it is real. At the Table, Christ nourishes us, strengthens us, and assures us of his love. We do no celebrate an absent Christ in the Supper, but enjoy communion with the living Christ. As Richard Baxter remarked, “No where is God so near to man as in Jesus Christ; and no where is Christ so familiarly represented to us, as in this holy sacrament.”
EXTRAORDINARY HOLINESS THROUGH ORDINARY MEANS
If we’re honest, communion with God is not a priority for many of us. At best, it sounds unrealistic. At worst, it sounds irrelevant. Communion with God is a small thing to us. We do not marvel that we can have fellowship with God in the first place. If anything, we take it for granted. We figure God is with everyone and has every reason to enjoy being with us. But neither assertion is true. God may be everywhere, but he is only with—in a covenantal sense—those who believe in his Son. Communion with God is possible only because of union with Christ. And what a remarkable possibility! The goal in the Garden was uninterrupted fellowship with God. The aim ever since has been restored fellowship with God. The end of the story is eternal fellowship with God. As J. I. Packer says, communion between God and man “is the end to which both creation and redemption are the means; it is the goal to which both theology and preaching must ever point; it is the essence of true religion; it is, indeed, the definition of Christianity.” That sinners can have fellowship with a sinless God is astonishing. That God made his Son who had no sin to be sin for us so that we could be reconciled to God is more amazing still (2 Cor. 5:21). And that we, with unveiled faces, can look upon the glory of God in the face of Christ and be transformed from one degree of glory to the next is yet one more undeserved blessing (3:18). You can know God. You can commune with God. You can be holier than you think.
And the process is more mundane than you might have imagined. If you are thoroughly underwhelmed with my four points for pursuing communion with Christ, I don’t apologize. It may sound boring or out-of-date, but it just happens to be true: the way to grow in your relationship with Jesus is to pray, read your Bible, and go to a church where you’ll get good preaching, good fellowship, and receive the sacraments. I’m not suggesting Christianity can be boiled down to a few external requirements. I’m not saying that at all. I’m arguing that if you want to be Christlike you need to have communion with Christ, and if you want communion with Christ you need to do it on his terms with the channels of grace he’s provided. And that means the only way to extraordinary holiness is through ordinary means.
John Calvin writes, in one of the best paragraphs you’ll ever read, “We see that our whole salvation and all its parts are comprehended in Christ [Acts 4:12]. We should therefore take care not to derive the least portion of it from anywhere else. If we seek salvation we are taught by the very name of Jesus that it is ‘of him’ [1 Cor. 1:30]. If we seek any other gifts of the Spirit, they will be found in his anointing. If we seek strength, it lies in his dominion; if purity, in his conception; if gentleness, it appears in his birth. For by his birth he was made like us in all respects [Heb. 2:17] that he might learn to feel our pain [cf. Heb. 5:2]. If we seek redemption, it lies in his passion; if acquittal, in his condemnation; if remission of the curse, in his cross [Gal. 3:13]; if satisfaction, in his sacrifice; if purification, in his blood; if reconciliation, in his descent into hell; if mortification of the flesh, in his tomb; if newness of life, in his resurrection; if immortality, in the same; if inheritance of the Heavenly Kingdom, in his entrance into heaven; if protection, if security, if abundant supply of all blessings, in his Kingdom; if untroubled expectation of judgment, in the power given to him to judge. In short, since rich store of every kind of good abounds in him, let us drink our fill from this fountain and from no other” (Institutes 2.16.19).
Institutes 3.2.24.
Sinclair Ferguson, ”The Reformed View,” in Christian Spirituality: Five Views of Sanctification, ed. Donald L. Alexander (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 1988), 195.
Kelly M. Kapic, “Worshiping the Triune God: The Shape of John Owen’s Trinitarian Spirituality,” in Communion with the Triune God, ed. Kelly M. Kapic and Justin Taylor (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2007), 20.
D. A. Carson, The Gospel According to John (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991), 516–517.
See Rudolf Schnackenburg, The Johannine Epistles: A Commentary (New York: Crossroad, 1992), 103.
William Law, A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life (ReadaClassic, 2010), 141–142.
Quoted by J. I. Packer, “The Puritan Idea of Communion with God,” in Puritan Papers, Volume 2 1960–1962 (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2001), 114–115 (emphasis his).
Andreas J. KÖstenberger, John (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2004), 455.
John Owen begins his massive work Communion with the Triune God (89–90) by referencing 1 John 1:3: “The outward appearance and condition of the saints in those days being very mean and contemptible—their leaders being accounted as the filth of this world and as the offscouring of all things—the inviting [of] others into fellowship with them and a participation of the precious things which they did enjoy, seem to be exposed to many contrary reasonings and objections: ‘What benefit is there in communion with them? Is it anything else but to be sharers in troubles, reproaches, scorns, and all manner of evils?’ To prevent or remove these and the like exceptions, the apostle gives them to whom he wrote to know . . . that notwithstanding all the disadvantages their fellowship lay under, unto a carnal view, yet in truth it was, and would be found to be . . . very honorable, glorious, and desirable. For ‘truly,’ says he, ‘our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.’”
Quoted by Packer, “Puritan Idea of Communion with God,” 116.
Ibid., 104. See also p. 105 for Packer’s indictment of contemporary Christianity for making too little out of communion with God. My thoughts here are indebted to his.