Dr Paul Allen

I was again overcome by the story of David’s sin against Uriah (murder) and Bathsheba (adultery) and God’s response in 2 Samuel 11–12. David acknowledges that the one who has done such a thing deserves to die (2 Samuel 12:5), but in the end Nathan says, “The Lord also has taken away your sin; you shall not die” ( 12:13 ). This is amazing grace. God passes over the sin and takes away the penalty of death. Although the sin is taken away and the death sentence removed, Nathan says, “Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the Lord, the child that is born to you shall die” ( 12:14 ). In spite of forgiveness, some “penalty” for the sin remains. Disciplinary Consequences I put  penalty  in quotes because I think we must distinguish consequences of forgiven sin (verse 13) from consequences of unforgiven sin . The latter are properly called penalties. The former we should probably call “disciplinary consequences.” That is, they are related to the sin, and

Original sin has to do with the fallenness of human nature. Jonathan Edwards wrote a tremendous treatise on original sin. He not only devoted himself to a lengthy exposition of what the Bible teaches about man's fallen character and his propensity toward wickedness, but he made a study from a secular, rational perspective that addressed the philosophy that was widespread in his day: Everyone in the world is born innocent, in a state of moral neutrality in which they don't have any predilection toward either the good or the evil. It's society that corrupts these innocent natives, so to speak.  As we are exposed to sinful behavior around us, our normal, natural innocence is eroded by the influence of society. But that begs the question, How did society get corrupt in the first place? Society is people. Why is it that so many people have sinned? It's almost axiomatic in our culture that nobody is perfect. And Edwards asked questions like, Why not? If everyone were

There is no greater message to be heard than that which we call the gospel. But as important as that is, it is often given to massive distortions or over simplifications. People think they're preaching the gospel to you when they tell you, 'you can have a purpose to your life', or that 'you can have meaning to your life', or that 'you can have a personal relationship with Jesus.' All of those things are true, and they're all important, but they don't get to the heart of the gospel. The gospel is called the 'good news' because it addresses the most serious problem that you and I have as human beings, and that problem is simply this: God is holy and He is just, and I'm not. And at the end of my life, I'm going to stand before a just and holy God, and I'll be judged. And I'll be judged either on the basis of my own righteousness–or lack of it –or the righteousness of another. The good news of the gospel is that Jesus lived a

All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.” ( Isaiah 53:6 ) As Christ hung on the cross, the Jewish leaders felt that He was guilty of blasphemy—a mere man, claiming to be God. In short, they felt that He was dying for His own sins. Their tragic misconceptions were predicted centuries before, as recorded in the treasured 53rd chapter of Isaiah: “We hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. . . . we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted” (vv. 3-4). But not so! God did not punish Him for His sins, but for ours. “He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities” (v. 5). “For the transgression of my people was he stricken” (v. 8). The penalty for sin has always been death, and even though “he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth. Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise him” (vv. 9-10). He was the perfect “of

When I suffer, I become certain of two things: 1. God exists, and 2. he is a traitor. I didn’t always believe that. I accumulated experiences with God. In every unpleasant moment, in every tragedy, in every moment of confusion, a light and deceptive hand turns my mind’s gaze Godward: “He did this.” “He should have stopped this.” “He wants you to think you can be happy, . . . but he’s a mischief maker. A  traitor .” If we can’t identify those arguments in our hearts, they’ll own our thoughts, emotions, and actions. They will drive us as we process pain. Very easily, even subconsciously, we learn that God is a traitor. I could be happy or I could be heartbroken. I’m heartbroken. God is in control. God said he loved me. One of these things cannot be true. Therefore , I trust him a little less now. Multiply that times a thousand losses, pains, or failures, and we can easily descend into a betrayed and victimized theology: God is a traitor. During grief — during a bre

English: Icon of Jesus Christ (Photo credit: Wikipedia ) Matthew 27:45–50 “About the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabacthani?’ that is, ‘My God , my God, why have you forsaken me?’” ( v. 46 ). Because the process of crucifixion is foreign to our experience, it is easy to overlook just how terribly painful this method of death was. It could take days for the crucified person to die from a combination of asphyxiation and exposure. People were hung on a cross in a position that forced them to use their arms to lift their body weight in order to draw a breath, causing the nails driven through their wrists and feet to tear at their flesh. If Rome wanted to prolong suffering, rope was used instead of nails to attach the person to the cross. God’s condemnation of our sin in the flesh of Jesus ( Rom. 8:3 ) was signified by the physical pain our Lord endured on the cross. At the same time the Romans were nailing Jesus to the cross, the Father w