If our salvation is eternally secure, why does the Bible warn so strongly against apostasy?

How I Strike a Healthy Work-Life Balance

Several years ago, I served as an elder at a church that began to introduce to our congregation the idea of reciting the Apostles’ Creed together weekly. We were careful to unpack this idea through sermons and discussion, but our congregation still raised several concerns and critiques. Notably, one concern was that creeds are for Roman Catholics. A few church members who’d left the Roman Catholic Church said reciting a creed would feel to them like a step backward. Many low-church evangelicals who care about theological retrieval—especially pastors—have heard church members raise concerns about the use of ancient church practices like reciting creeds, or even teaching a catechism, in worship. Frankly, these concerns should be taken seriously. When our pastoral team was shepherding our Baptist church toward use of the Creed, we wanted to help our church members see and celebrate their connection to the ancient church. But those church members were right to recognize the danger in theological retrieval. Indeed, some who have looked to the past have ended up swimming the Tiber, trading in their evangelical convictions for the Anglo-Catholic, Roman Catholic, or even Orthodox faiths. Is there a way to embrace theological retrieval that strengthens rather than weakening our convictions? As enthusiastic retrievers, is there a way to discern what to embrace and what to leave behind? Renewers, Not Revolutionaries Historically, we Protestants have been renewers more than revolutionaries. As theologically diverse as they were, the 16th-century Protestant reformers were all concerned that the late-medieval church had allowed man-made traditions to overshadow the Scriptures, that it had left behind the apostolic deposit and even the faith of the early church fathers. Well-known figures like Jan Hus and John Wycliffe raised alarms about the late-medieval church’s practices over a century before Luther and others lit the larger flame. Theological retrieval doesn’t have to be a path to losing your evangelical roots—so long as you approach the past with wisdom. So when it comes to retrieving the past, we Protestants have always had a strong inclination to see Scripture as the master over tradition. The Reformation cry was sola scriptura. The reformers saw tradition as a derivative authority for the church but not equal to Scripture’s ultimate authority. The issue for Protestantism wasn’t (and isn’t) retrieving the past. The concern is whether we retrieve it in a truly reformational mode. Protestants have in common an approach to tradition that requires our denominational beliefs to be subject to Scripture. So whether we’re Baptist, Presbyterian, Anglican, or otherwise, we can hold our particular convictions tightly because we believe they have genuine biblical warrant, while learning from other Protestants with whom we disagree about sacraments or ecclesiology. As a scholar who has been practicing retrieval for over a decade, I’ve developed a simple taxonomy for how Protestants can interact with the Christian past and retrieve its insights for today. Some may call this cherry-picking what one likes or doesn’t like from the past, but picking and choosing is what every individual, church, and broader tradition ultimately does. No pure Christian tradition remains unchanged and unhindered throughout time and space. Instead of pretending any one does, this taxonomy can help us all think through how and to what extent we implement the past into the present. Threefold Taxonomy 1. Reinforce The first way to retrieve the past is to draw on biblical, theological, and philosophical ideas that reinforce what my particular tradition already holds. Since I’m a Baptist, religious liberty and church-state distinctions are core to my beliefs. So when I read apologists like Justin Martyr and Tertullian, and they offer resources that bolster my views of religious liberty, I freely draw from them. Both are concerned that believers should be able to practice their religion freely without fear of persecution or discipline, and this speaks deeply to my Baptist heart. In a Western world where Christianity has often been unduly mocked, Athenagoras’s Plea rings true: For it does not comport with your justice, that others when charged with crimes should not be punished till they are convicted, but that in our case the name we bear should have more force than the evidence adduced on the trial, when the judges, instead of inquiring whether the person arraigned have committed any crime, vent their insults on the name, as if that were itself a crime. I don’t need to abandon my Baptist convictions to affirm and implement these insights; rather, his views reinforce my own. 2. Refine I can allow biblical, theological, and philosophical ideas from the past to refine my own. When I began reading Athanasius of Alexandria and Gregory of Nazianzus on the Trinity, I found these church fathers’ insights beneficial for strengthening the way Baptists talk about the Trinity. They challenged Baptists’ 20th-century turn toward Trinitarian views that were more sociological and anthropological than biblical. What’s sometimes called “classical theism” wasn’t only more biblically satisfying than what popular systematic theologies offered; I discovered that it was more in line with my Baptist roots. Article 38 of the Orthodox Creed, a Baptist document from 1679, cites the Nicene, Athanasian, and Apostles’ creeds and says they should be “thoroughly . . . received, and believed” by Baptist churches. As a Baptist, I learned that adopting these creeds and their related patristic sources didn’t require me to rethink my Baptist convictions; instead, they helped to refine and strengthen them. 3. Reject While retrieval can reinforce or refine our convictions, there are certainly times when insights from the past should be rejected because they’re at odds with our core beliefs. The issue for Protestantism wasn’t (and isn’t) retrieving the past. The concern is whether we retrieve it in a truly reformational mode. Thomas Aquinas’s views on transubstantiation and the effectiveness of the sacraments were more in line with later Roman Catholic beliefs than with Protestant and Baptist beliefs. While his doctrine of the Trinity and some of his exegetical insights easily fall into the “reinforce” and “refine” categories for me, it’s impossible to meaningfully implement his sacramental theology into a Baptist context, even if one holds to a reformational view of communion that differs from the memorial position most Baptists hold. As a convictional Baptist, I must reject Aquinas’s views on the sacraments as a whole, or else rethink my commitment to being Baptist at all. Over time, my Baptist church warmed to the idea of using the Apostles’ Creed in worship, and it’s been reciting the creed together every Sunday for years. I don’t think that church should be alone. Whatever core denominational convictions you may have, it’s better to thoughtfully and even critically join with the great cloud of historical witnesses trying to better understand and articulate biblical truth. The same Spirit at work in the past is at work today. May we glean wisdom from his work behind us as we press ahead into the work before us and on to the new creation.

Snakes often evoke terror and revulsion. I experienced this one day on a hike when I heard a sound at my feet. There, right next to me, was a rattlesnake, coiled and ready to strike. One of the horrifying punishments against sin in the Old Testament involves a horde of snakes. God sends venomous snakes to bite grumbling and defiant Israelites in the wilderness. But even in his wrath, God shows mercy. He tells Moses to put a bronze serpent on a pole; anyone who looks at it is healed (Num. 21:9). A serpent is a strange symbol of salvation. Jesus refers to this event in his conversation with Nicodemus, a religious leader of the Jews. In a way, the serpent on the pole was a prophetic symbol of the crucifixion: “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (John 3:14–15). This is Jesus’s invitation to Nicodemus to look on him and be saved. In three scenes, John masterfully shows Nicodemus’s movement from incredulity to indecision to belief in the lifted-up Son of Man. In doing this, he invites his readers to put aside all their incredulity and indecision and to identify with Jesus through belief. Scene One: Incredulity Nicodemus first approaches Jesus at night (vv. 1–15). John emphasizes the timing of this rendezvous to highlight its secrecy. Nicodemus acknowledges that Jesus is from God (v. 2), but he’s still ignorant and in spiritual darkness. He’s operating in the dark and secrecy of the night. Nicodemus acknowledges that Jesus is from God, but he’s still ignorant and in spiritual darkness. As the conversation unfolds, Nicodemus is incredulous at Jesus’s claims and teaching. He’s likely still shocked by the cleansing of the temple and Jesus saying, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up” (2:19). Nicodemus’s question “How can these things be?” characterizes his approach to Jesus (3:9). Their conversation ends with the narrator’s commentary on the symbolism of light and darkness: “The light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light. . . . But whoever does what is true comes to the light” (vv. 19, 21). This commentary should be applied to Nicodemus, one stuck in darkness who is coming to the light of Jesus. Will Nicodemus truly come to the light or stay in the darkness of night? Scene Two: Indecision The second scene featuring Nicodemus emphasizes the question of his identity (7:50–52). A council of the chief priests and Pharisees convenes to arrest Jesus. However, the officers, amazed by Jesus and his teaching, refuse to bring him in. Nicodemus is caught up in the ensuing debate. When John reintroduces Nicodemus, he comments about his identity; Nicodemus “was one of them” (v. 50). This identity comes into question in the scene. Nicodemus makes the case that Jesus should be given a fair hearing according to the law (v. 51). The Pharisees question him: “Are you from Galilee too?” (v. 52). John intentionally includes this sneering question to push forward Nicodemus’s character arc. Who is Nicodemus? Is he “one of them”? Or is he a “Galilean,” a disciple of Jesus? Scene Three: New Identity After the crucifixion, almost out of nowhere, Nicodemus reemerges and takes center stage (19:38–41). The Jews want nothing to do with Jesus’s dead body, so they ask Pilate to take him away (v. 31). They don’t want the blemish of a dead body to defile their Passover Sabbath. Ironically, though, Jesus is the true Passover Lamb. He’s the one the Passover points to. They reject the spiritual substance of the feast, Jesus himself, to uphold the mere shadow of the feast. Nicodemus does the opposite. He sets aside the symbol of the feast for the substance. The text implies Nicodemus is personally involved in the burial process. He’s apparently not concerned with being ceremonially unclean, even on the cusp of the Passover Sabbath. He no longer sneaks in the shadows of night. Before the Sabbath evening begins, during the day of Preparation, he openly identifies with Jesus. The day should be identified as the “light.” The question of Nicodemus’s identity appears resolved. He truly comes to the light. Better than the Bronze Serpent John wants us to see the contrasting responses to Jesus of the Pharisees and Nicodemus. The Pharisees and religious leaders see Jesus as a terrifying and revolting snake—unclean and dangerous. But Nicodemus sees that Jesus is the source of healing and life. Nicodemus looks to the One who was lifted up. Just as the Israelites were healed of the poisonous bites in the wilderness wanderings, Nicodemus is healed of his evil and darkness. Just as the Israelites were healed of the poisonous bites in the wilderness wanderings, Nicodemus is healed of his evil and darkness. The Gospel of John presents humanity in two broad categories. Either you’re in the darkness and hate the light, or you’re born again and come to the light. The Nicodemus character arc gives one concrete example of what coming to the light looks like: true belief in and identification with Jesus. Nicodemus’s actions are recorded to persuade us to believe in Jesus (20:31). The question John poses through Nicodemus is this: Are you in the dark or have you truly come to the light? We’re invited to look to the lifted-up Son of Man and believe (3:14–15). Doubt and indecision may hinder. But there’s life and freedom in believing and publicly identifying with Jesus, no matter the cost.

Whether through a public scandal captured in the headlines or a private offense held closely in our hearts, many of us have been hurt by others in the church. In this panel discussion from TGC’s 2024 Women’s Conference, Winfree Brisley, Karen Hodge, Ruth Chou Simons, and Irene Sun explore various kinds of church hurt and offer gospel-centered guidance for navigating them both practically and spiritually. They share personal stories; emphasize prayer, humility, and accountability; and remind us why the church—despite its brokenness—is still worth loving as the body of Christ, full of hope and healing.