Dr Paul Allen

Few things trouble the soul of the child of God as much as the presence of indwelling sin and the sober realization of the inability of the flesh to overcome it. True believers often come to the end of themselves and cry out: “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Rom. 7:24). Christians grieve over sin and spiritual weakness. They long for victory over it.  The Scriptures command us to be diligent in examining ourselves (1 Cor. 11:28), taking heed to ourselves (1 Cor. 10:12) and asking the Lord to “Search me and see if there be any grievous way in me” (Ps. 139:23–24); but they do not stop there. God’s Word reveals that the work of Christ is the source of pardon for sin as well as the source of power to overcome it. Believers possess this power by virtue of their union with Christ in His death and resurrection.  In order to grow in Christlikeness, the believer must remember that sin’s dominion was broken when Christ died and rose again. This is the apost

Jesus is considered by scholars such as Weber to be an example of a charismatic religious leader. (Photo credit: Wikipedia ) Author: Ric Thomas. You raise a good and thoughtful question about a phrase that has been tossed around Christianity for a long time. It is one of those bumper sticker statements or fiery pulpit lines that sounds good in the moment, but lacks depth and needs more explanation and nuance, which is the point of your question. If we “hate the sin and love the sinner,” but never practicalize what God’s love fully means as it relates to the sinner, then we are missing something that is of paramount importance. Though the intent of the statement is good, the danger is that it can lead us into the pluralistic relativism we so despise in our culture today. Hate the sin, but love the sinner is a forced juxtaposition of biblical thought that can abuse the word love, while obscuring God’s plenary character and attributes. Whenever we take two thoughts like this–ha

In airports you find those long moving walkway conveyor belts that look like a flat escalator propelling you forward. Some passengers step onto the belt and remain static, allowing the rubber to deliver them to their destination. Others prefer to keep up a steady gait while on the belt, causing a unique sensation of warp-speed walking. Still others eschew the mechanism altogether and, like Amish conscientious objectors, choose to plod on resolutely next to the belt. We all end up where we’re going but let’s face it: those who are serious about arriving sooner rather than later tend to be the businessmen who jog on the belt outpacing their fellow travellers by leaps and bounds. Sanctification is not passive. We can’t sit sprawled on an assembly line as the Spirit fits us with the next Christian virtue. Yes, God is overseeing every tweak and turn of the process, but the more we cooperate the quicker (and less painful) the progress. It may seem like a paradox to minds that prefer dicho

Fear is such a powerful force in our experience. Fear is designed by God and has a wonderful, protective benefit for us when it functions as God designed it. Instinctual fears are tremendous mercies, protecting us from danger before we even have time to think. Rational fears, the fears we have time to think about, when operating under the governance of faith, can protect us from all manner of foolish and sinful impulses and from external, deceptive evil. But for most of us, fear often does not function as it was designed. It is not under the governance of our trust in God and therefore wields an excessive, distorting influence over our thinking and behaviors. If fear is misplaced we think and act wrongly. Misplaced fear becomes a tyrant that imposes constrictive limits and leaves us debilitated in some or much of our lives. Under its rule we don’t do what we know we should because we are afraid. We all desire to be free of this tyrant. But is this possible? Can we really be