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We’ve looked at two of the exercise machines that build spiritual muscle. There’s one more.

We find our key word—grace—over in Ephesians. In chapter 4 Paul talks about putting off the “old man” and his “deeds” (Eph 4.22), and conversely “putting on”—like a new suit—the “new man” (Eph 4.24). He lists several behavioral changes that will follow—you’ll quit lying and start telling the truth (Eph 4.25); you’ll control your anger (Eph 4.26-27); you’ll stop stealing and start giving (Eph 4.28); you’ll start speaking in ways that build people up instead of tearing them down (Eph 4.29).

And as part of this last item, Paul throws in an off-handed comment that introduces us to our third exercise machine. Words “that are good for edification,” he says, will “give grace to those who hear.”

There’s our word grace. We ask our two exegetical questions:

• Is the word grace here used in the narrower, technical sense, of spiritual strength? Since the immediate context speaks of “edification,” we can reasonably say yes.
• Does the context identify a practice, an “exercise,” that results in this spiritual strength? It does; the exercise is our words—our conversation.

In a sense this passage is backwards from the other two. It’s not speaking of something that makes us stronger; it’s speaking rather of something we do that makes others stronger. But since this is a reciprocal activity, based in relationship, it’s reasonable to conclude that the words that others speak to us will similarly strengthen us, since they’re “good for edification.”

So the third exercise machine is conversation with other believers that strengthens us to live biblically in an antibiblical world.

We have a word for that, one that we get from the Scripture itself:

Fellowship.

We talk about fellowship a lot in our churches. We even have a room named for it: the Fellowship Hall.

How do we know which room in the church is the Fellowship Hall?

It’s the one with a kitchen.

And as a body we’ll frequently adjourn to the Fellowship Hall, where we’ll all eat casseroles and talk about sports and politics and who’s dating whom.

And when it’s done, we’ll leave and say that we had such good “fellowship” today.

No, we didn’t.

I’m not suggesting that it’s wrong to talk about sports or politics, or even who’s dating whom—provided we’re not gossiping.

But that’s not fellowship. It’s just conversation.

Fellowship is talking to one another about our relationships with Christ, and our struggles, and our victories, and our experiences. It’s encouraging one another as we walk the path of discipleship together. It’s building spiritual muscle in others by spotting them when they’re bench pressing and by telling them that they can do 10 more reps.

And it’s not just talk. It’s taking action to make things better. It’s intervening on behalf of “widows and orphans in their distress” (Jam 1.27) and going to someone’s house when he’s depressed and mowing an elderly couple’s lawn and telling an inattentive adult son that his Mom needs his financial help.

We can work on the other exercise machines alone. Bible study and prayer can be corporate, of course, but we actually need to have a significant portion of our time on those machines by ourselves.

But fellowship is a team sport. That’s the whole point.

A further thought.

You can’t knowingly encourage a fellow believer in his struggle if you don’t know he’s struggling. The church needs to be a place where we know that we can share those struggles safely and where we know that those who hear will care and respond with encouraging words and with selfless actions.

The church ought to be a safe space.

And we ought to measure our words, directing them as carefully as if they were bullets, able to stop the attacker but able also to hurt the good guys if they’re sent out carelessly, without possibility of recall.

We ought to engage one another in the body with care, and thought, and intent, and purpose.

We ought to put weights on that machine, too.

Part 6

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You’ve had a few days on the first exercise machine—the Scripture—and if you’ve been diligent, you may have some sore muscles, ones you haven’t exercised in a while. Good for you.

What’s the next exercise machine?

Recall that we’re finding New Testament uses of the word grace where the context indicates that the word is speaking of spiritual strength, and where there’s some sort of practice indicated that builds up the grace.

Our second passage is probably familiar to you; it’s commonly included in Bible memory programs.

Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need (Heb 4.16).

We see the word grace there. Is it a reference to spiritual strength? Since the verse ends with a reference to “help in time of need,” it seems to be in the neighborhood.

Is there an associated exercise? Well, we all know what “the throne of grace” is; perhaps your pastor begins his public prayer with the phrase, “Let’s all go before the throne of grace.” If he does, he’s getting the phrase from this verse. The context confirms that he’s right to see the phrase as a reference to prayer—we have a great high priest (Heb 4.14) who is sympathetic to our needs (Heb 4.15), so we ought to bring our requests to him in confidence (Heb 4.16).

Prayer.

I’ve noticed something over the years.

In my travels, particularly in developing countries, I’ve noticed that believers there seem to have a vibrancy and urgency and passion in their prayers that just doesn’t seem to happen much here in the States.

Why do you suppose that is?

Are Americans just not as emotional as other cultures?

The Super Bowl is a week from Sunday. I don’t think emotional coldness in the culture is the problem.

This is just my opinion, but I suspect that there are two characteristics of American culture that suppress our prayer life—

First, we’re rich.

You may not think you’re rich, but you are, comparatively speaking. If you have a place to live, and food to eat every day, you’re in better shape financially than a great swath of others on this planet.

And when your needs are not urgent for the continuation of your life—today—you don’t feel the kind of urgency in prayer that a great many people do. For most of us, if we really need something, we can just go out and buy it. A can of beans. A box of rice. Something to drink.

We may not be satisfied or content, but we’re not desperate either.

If your church still has Wednesday night prayer meeting, I suspect there’s a pattern there. What are most of the requests about?

Health. And especially cancer.

Why? Because we can handle most of the other stuff—or we think we can.

I’m not criticizing prayer for healing; I’m observing that in our culture, there’s relatively little that we really feel the need to pray about.

The second characteristic of American culture that suppresses our prayer fervency is one that might surprise you.

We’re free.

We talk about persecution of Christians in the US, but relatively speaking, we have it remarkably easy. When we gather, we don’t have to fear that the cops are going to show up, bust up the place, and ship us all off to the gulag.

I’ve been in places where that was a real possibility. It’ll change the way you pray.

So what do we do about all this? Seek poverty? Give up our freedom?

Of course not. For one thing, that would violate the biblical principle of stewardship, and for another, our freedom was purchased at great cost by brave men and women over the centuries; I’m not going to squander it.

But we do need to rise above our culture to see our genuine need, and to bring those needs humbly but confidently before the throne of grace. We need to pray as though it matters, because it does.

We need to put some weights on the machine.

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So welcome to the gym. You’ll notice the mirrors on the walls (Jam 1.22-25), as well as several exercise machines scattered around the room. Let’s talk a little about what they are and how they work.

The first exercise machine we find described in Acts 20. Paul is returning to Jerusalem from one of his mission trips, and he stops in Miletus, the port nearest Ephesus, where’s he spent two years ministering in the recent past (Ac 19.10). Because he’s in a hurry to get back to Jerusalem for one of the annual assembly feasts (Ac 20.16), he saves some time by sending for the elders of the church in Ephesus. They gather there on the dock beside the ship, and he gives them a farewell address; he knows there’s trouble ahead in Jerusalem (Ac 20.22-23), and he knows he may never see them again (Ac 20.25). (I think he did see them again [1Ti 1.3], after he was acquitted on his appeal to Caesar [2 Ti 4.16-17] just after the end of Acts, but that’s not an issue here.)

He charges them to lead the church well. He closes by saying,

And now I commend you to God and to the word of His grace, which is able to build you up and to give you the inheritance among all those who are sanctified (Ac 20.32).

We see our word grace here. To confirm that this verse is relevant to our study, we need to ask two questions:

• Does the context indicate that the word grace is being used in a narrower sense, of spiritual strength?
• Is there some sort of means indicated here that tells us how to receive the spiritual strength?

In answer to the first question, Paul says that this grace “is able to build you up,” which is a pretty clear reference to spiritual strength. And in answer to the second question, he ties the grace to “the word”—the “word of his grace,” the “grace-giving word,” if you will.

So the first exercise machine is the Word, the Scripture. If you exercise on it, it will make you stronger.

Now I suppose I need to press the metaphor a little further.

If you go to the gym—the physical one—and sit at an exercise machine and pump away, but without engaging any weights on the cable, will that be any benefit?

Technically, yes; depending on how fast you pump, you might get some cardio benefit, and depending on the range of motion, you might get some improved flexibility out of it.

But will you build any muscle?

Nope.

You build muscle by tearing muscle fiber, and you do that by engaging resistance against the muscle.

You need to put weights on the machine.

How do you put weights on the Bible machine?

May I suggest some possibilities?

• You do more than just read a verse or two and then get on with your day.
• You read it extensively. It’s common among believers to read through the Bible each year. That’s certainly a great place to start.
• You read it intensively. You read slowly, attentively, thoughtfully. You turn it over in your head. You draw conclusions and applications from it.
• You reach beyond your grasp. You read what others have written about the passage, especially others with study tools that you may not have for yourself.
• You memorize it, so you can turn it over in your mind anytime you have a spare minute.
• You write down what you’ve learned, so it will be cemented more solidly in your mind.
• You talk to others about it, both to hold yourself accountable and to benefit from their insights.
• You find opportunities to teach it, because the best way to learn anything is to teach it.

I’m not suggesting that you need to study your Bible for hours every day; you don’t spend hours on any exercise machine, because life calls. But you put weights on the machine, to increase the benefit of the time you spend there.

And you build muscle.

Next time, a different exercise machine.

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Part 1

I’ve suggested that our lives ought to be oriented around the work God is doing in his people to make them—us—more like his Son. I’ve also suggested that this work can be compared to an exercise program.

Although I think the analogy is helpful, I also recognize that it isn’t really useful unless the Scripture gives us reason to think that the sanctification process is in some ways similar to physical exercise.

Is there any evidence of that? Is there a biblical word for spiritual strength? And are there “exercises” attached to it?

There are of course words in the Bible that are translated “might” or “power” or “strength.” The most well-known one, I suppose, is the Greek dunamis; I suspect you’ve heard a preacher somewhere say that “this is the Greek word from which we get our word dynamite.” It’s used often in the New Testament in reference to the “power of God,” and once we’re told that it “works in us” (Ep 3.20). So that might be a profitable study for us.

I’d like to direct your thinking, though, to a different word, one that might not come to mind in this connection. It’s the word grace.

I suspect you’re thinking that you know what grace means, and it’s not “strength.” You learned in Sunday school that it means “unmerited favor”—“God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense.”

And indeed it does. It refers to anything you’ve received that you don’t deserve.

But you also know that words have multiple meanings. If you look up pretty much any word, in pretty much any language, the dictionary will list several definitions, or nuances, for it. Humans are creative—because they’re in the image of God, who is creative—and we make up new meanings for our words all the time. (Teenagers are especially good at this.)

Thus one of the basic steps in studying any word is to determine the various meanings it has. In the case of grace (charis in Greek), it can have several meanings—for example, a present or gift (Ac 24.27; 25.9); credit (Lk 6.32-34); honor (Ac 2.47); and, yes, unmerited favor (Ac 15.11). But occasionally it’s used in a more specific, perhaps even technical, sense, of a particular thing you don’t deserve—namely, spiritual strength. You can see this especially in 2Co 12.9, where Jesus says to Paul,

“My grace is sufficient for you,
for power is perfected in weakness.”

Note the parallelism between these two clauses; grace is in parallel with power (Greek dunamis). It’s no surprise that this verse is often used in theology as a proof text for the omnipotence of Christ and therefore for his deity.

Grace is strength. So Paul tells young Timothy, “Be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus” (2Ti 2.1).

So here’s our biblical question: does the Scripture ever use the word grace in the sense of spiritual strength, where the context indicates a mechanism for building that strength—a spiritual exercise, if you will?

Does the Bible tell us how we can “exercise [Greek gumnazo, as in gymnasium] ourselves unto godliness” (1Ti 4.7)?

Well, the Greek word charis, “grace,” occurs 160 times in the New Testament; that’s quite a list of verses to go through. From those 160 occurrences, we need to select those that are speaking of spiritual strength; then from that smaller list, we need to select any occurrences that specify an exercise for building spiritual strength.

That’s gonna take some time.

Fortunately, there are people who have already done that work, and we can benefit from their labors.

There are three passages in the Scripture that seem to have what we’re looking for, and each of those passages specifies a different spiritual exercise.

The great thing about this exercise program is that it doesn’t matter what kind of shape you’re in at the moment; you can get started right away, and you don’t have to pace yourself to prevent a cardiac event.

Oh, and you have a Trainer who has the supernatural ability to impart his infinite strength to you whenever you need it, so you can keep making progress. “Just 10 more reps,” indeed.

Best fitness program ever.

Next time, we’ll drop by the gym and begin examining the exercise machines.

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What’s the most important question in the world?

I think my fellow Christians would agree with me that it’s the question of where you’re going to spend eternity. If there’s life after death, and if that life is eternal, and if there are different possibilities for the nature of that life, then it’s hard to imagine any question more important than that one.

Life and death. Heaven and hell. It doesn’t get any more consequential than that.

As the Philippian jailer put it so clearly and succinctly all those years ago, “What must I do to be saved?” (Ac 16.30).

And interestingly, according to the Scripture, the answer is remarkably simple and direct. As Paul replied to the jailer, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved” (Ac 16.31).

God has been kind to make the answer to such a consequential question so simple.

Over the years, quite a few Christians have behaved as though The Most Important Question is the only important question.

I said the prayer. I got my ticket out of hell. It’s all good.

Now. What do I want to be when I grow up? Whom do I want to marry? Where do I want to live?

But the Scripture doesn’t see conversion as merely a ticket to ride. Conversion is a commencement—it’s the start of something really, really big, a whole lot of which takes place before you get anywhere near heaven.

I’ve written on some of that before.

Conversion begins a lifetime of being changed, through the work of the Spirit of God, to be more and more like Christ—to the degree that we can be like someone who is God as well as man. It’s a life in which everything—everything—is being morphed, refreshed, improved, renovated (2Co 3.18).

For many Christians it comes down to trying to be good now. Trying to get better, to turn over a new leaf. And, like new year’s resolutions, it gets old and tired, and we end up not making much progress. I’ve known people who said, “I’ve tried the Christianity thing. Didn’t work for me. Wish it had, but it didn’t.”

But it’s not about trying to do better. It’s not just a New Life’s Resolution. It’s a sure, certain work, by the omnipotent and faithful Spirit of God, to conform you to the image of Christ.

Which brings me to what I often call The Second Most Important Question in the World:

How do I achieve reliable, steady spiritual growth?

Or, as I’ve titled this series,

How do I build spiritual muscle?

I suppose many Christians would reply, “You just pray for it.”

I’d like to suggest that that’s not really the right answer. I’m all for praying—in fact, we’ll get to that topic later in the series—but I’d suggest that that’s not the answer that the Bible gives to this question.

Yes, the Bible does say that if we lack wisdom, we should just ask for it (Jam 1.5). And the Scripture makes much of God’s generous willingness to pour out his blessings on us, if we’ll only ask (e.g. Lk 6.38). Prayer is certainly part of the answer. But it’s not the whole answer.

Perhaps an illustration will help.

Suppose I want serious abs. Ripped abs. A washboard. (Come to think of it, how do you know I don’t already have them? ?)

And so I pray: “Dear Lord, please give me abs.”

And I lie on the couch, watching TV and eating half-gallons of ice cream straight from the carton.

Six-pack?

Nope. Not outside of well-insulated cooler, anyway.

Doesn’t work that way. God could answer that prayer miraculously, of course. But he won’t, and not just because we don’t have “enough faith.”

There’s a way to get abs.

Now let me ask the application question.

If the Bible has told us how to build spiritual muscle—if it’s given us the exercises, so to speak—and we don’t do the exercises, do you think God’s going to give us spiritual muscle miraculously?

Sure, in the end our spiritual growth is a miracle. But I’d suggest that God has placed some of the responsibility for sanctification on us.

And for what it’s worth, the theology books, both Calvinist and Arminian, agree with me. Sanctification is a synergistic work between the Spirit of God and the believer.

So. How do we build spiritual muscle? What are the exercises?

Join me for the next few posts, and we’ll work through the biblical data.

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