Abba, Part 3: Justified

Hey, Cobblestone,

    Receive the following lyrics, and let them begin to speak to you.

How deep the Father’s love for us,

how vast beyond all measure,

that he would give his only Son

to make a wretch his treasure.

(“How Deep the Father’s Love for Us,” Stuart Townend, 1995)

    Treasure – when was the last time you thought of yourself as treasure? Our Father in heaven thinks of all his adopted daughters and sons as treasure – his own inheritance – all the time. Did you know you were adopted, Christian? Sure you were, and here’s how it happened: justification.

    Think on the word “justified.” I distinctly remember a time, in conversation with some friends, when I mistakenly used the word “justify” in place of “rationalize.” It was one of those times when everybody understood the definitions but me, and the misuse made my misunderstanding evident. Bottom line, I’m very deliberate with those two words ever since. There may be some lingering misunderstanding among us, so let’s bring them into view.

    To rationalize is to make excuses for. The characteristic remarks are “Well, I have my reasons” or “What else was I supposed to do?” or maybe “You couldn’t have done any better.” Fifty bad things happened, but it’s okay because this one sorta good thing happened kinda because of them. Rationalizing is bad relational math. There are no solutions, only endless unsolved equations.

    To justify is to make right. The characteristic remarks are, “Ooh, that was messed up, but not anymore” and “Yeah, that’s how it was always supposed to be.” As good things go, justification is the first of many, the necessary foundation.

    In salvation terms, we could think about justification along these lines: Imagine walking into a courtroom knowing you’re guilty as charged of terrible crimes. You look at the judge and instantly see that he knows your guilt as a fact. And he knows that you know he knows. Nobody’s questioning your guilt, least of all you and the judge. How silly would it be to speak “Not guilty” over someone so obviously culpable? Not only silly but also a lie – in a word, rationalizing. Now imagine the judge saying, “I know you’re guilty, but I choose to treat you as if you never committed the crimes, because it’s the only righteous way to deal with your guilt.” The best judges I’ve ever known – and I’ve known some good ones – couldn’t pull that off. That takes a Father.

    What’s known as “The Great Exchange” has its best scriptural handle in 2Corinthians 5:21…

    God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

    Notice that the verse quite literally begins and ends with “God,” the Father. God the Father made God the Son sin for us, and imputed the Son’s righteousness to us – the Son’s record in exchange for ours. He made “justified” possible. He paved the only way for adoption. The word he speaks over his children is “Mine.”

    The greatest heartache to be had is in not hearing that wonderful word, not believing it was spoken, thinking it could be taken back. We want to earn it, right? We want it to depend on us, even as our souls convince us it can’t be done. 

    Relax…

    There is indeed one, and only one, who righteously made a claim to righteousness:

…when Christ came into the world, he said,

“Sacrifices and offerings you have not desired,

    but a body have you prepared for me;

in burnt offerings and sin offerings

    you have taken no pleasure.

Then I said, ‘Behold, I have come to do your will, O God,

    as it is written of me in the scroll of the book.’” (Hebrews 10:5-7)

    And his is the righteousness imputed, given, to us. Not by accident. Not by happenstance or luck of the draw. And certainly not by holding the ocean of sin back with a broom. By the Father’s good pleasure and perfect will: “Mine,” the same as he speaks over his Beloved and Only Begotten. 

    I’m okay, mostly, with rationalizing a second scoop of ice cream. But when it comes to understanding where we are with the Father, may I please recommend the Yes-and-Amen we actually have, far over the kinda-sorta of our fretful imaginings. There’s no substitute for “Justified” – it has the Boom of authenticity. 

    The opening line of Stuart Townend’s modern hymn is a declaration. In strict grammatical terms, it would end with an exclamation point. But if it should appear in your mind with a pesky question mark – How deep is the Father’s love for us? – I would gladly and heartily say…

    Jump in. Have fun finding out.

Grace and Peace (unfathomable),

John