Why the Lord's Supper Does What Believer's Baptism Doesn't

Most of us don’t want to be charity cases.

We want to work for what we receive. We want to pay our own way and earn our place. This is true in nearly every part of life, and it often becomes true of the way we relate to God. We begin to think that if we work hard enough, obey consistently enough, or become useful enough, God will be pleased with us.

This is the question that will wear out your soul: Am I working hard enough for God?

Paul addresses this directly in Galatians 3:

“O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? It was before your eyes that Jesus Christ was publicly portrayed as crucified. Let me ask you only this: Did you receive the Spirit by works of the law or by hearing with faith? Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?”—Galatians 3:1–3

The Galatians had received the gospel. Jesus Christ had been publicly portrayed before them as crucified. They understood that they were saved through faith in Christ. Yet now they were living as though Christ had begun their salvation, but they would need to finish it through their own effort.

Paul’s question is simple: Did God come to you as a boss paying wages, or as a Father giving gifts?

Grace Is Offensive to Hard Workers

Grace is difficult for hardworking people because grace makes you a charity case before it makes you useful.

Legalism affirms that we can save ourselves. It says that if you somehow work hard enough, God will say, “Well done, good and faithful servant. This is what you deserve. You’ve been good, so I’m happy with you.”

But the reality is that Christians can hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” only because the Father treated Jesus like us in order to treat us like Jesus.

For us to insist on getting what we are owed is to insist on our destruction.

Paul writes:

“For all who rely on works of the law are under a curse; for it is written, ‘Cursed be everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law, and do them.’”—Galatians 3:10

The problem is not God’s law. God’s law is good. The problem is our attempt to use the law to make ourselves righteous.

If we want to stand before God based on our obedience, we must obey everything. We do not get to present our best moments and ignore the rest. We cannot offer God sincere effort and demand that he call it righteousness.

The law requires perfect obedience. We have not given it.

God Loves Obedience

Before you write an angry email or comment, hear this: God is delighted when we are transformed by Jesus trading places with us on the cross by taking our sin, then by coming to new life with him through his resurrection, and then responding by obeying his laws and commandments.

This is precious to God.

First Samuel 15:22 says:

“Does the Lord delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the Lord? To obey is better than sacrifice.”

This isn’t only confined to the Old Testament. In John 14:15, Jesus says:

“If you love me, keep my commands.”

God loves when we obey what he has told us to do because his law reveals part of who he is.

When God commands us not to worship other gods, it’s because he is saying, “There’s only one God, and I’m him.”

When he tells us not to worship carved images—not just of false gods, but also of the one true God—he is saying, “I’m infinite and eternal. I cannot be contained in something material. Not even your mind.”

God wants us to obey because he knows what is right and true. Every time we don’t follow him, we break away from our Creator.

God loves our obedience when it is done with the right intention.

But when we try to leverage our obedience toward God as an act to earn God’s favor, it is disgusting to him.

My Kids Are Bad Artists

My kids are bad artists.

It is a hard thing to say, but as I step back from my emotional connection to my kids and their art and critically look at what they’ve made, it’s not something an art gallery would hang.

Don’t get me wrong. There is nothing better or more precious than when my children make art out of their pure, childish imagination and give it to me out of pure love.

I still have a misspelled card that my son made me in my office from two years ago, simply because when he gave it to me, it was him saying, “I made this for you because I love you, and this is the best that I can do.”

But later, this same son of mine—in an attempt to get out of cleaning the playroom—made me a crayon drawing and said, “Here is a picture. Now I don’t have to clean the playroom.”

At that moment, that artwork wasn’t something I wanted to cherish or even keep. It was a worthless piece of paper because of the heart behind it.

Our children’s art doesn’t have any monetary value, nor would it win any awards. When it’s given out of a heart that is trying to earn something from us, it actually disgusts us—or at least it did for me. But when it is given as an act of love in response to the love we’ve given them, it is priceless.

This is similar to the way God feels about us trying to earn his favor or love through our good works.

Our works aren’t impressive enough to place God in our debt. Yet when they come from a heart of love in response to the love he has given us, they are precious to him.

The difference is not the quality of the artwork. It is the heart behind it.

Our Obedience Can Become Rebellion

Isaiah 64:6 says:

“We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.”

This passage uses clearly strong language against our righteous deeds. The original Hebrew is even stronger than many English translations communicate. The polluted garment Isaiah describes was a ceremonially unclean rag.

Why does Isaiah describe our righteous deeds this way?

Because we have perverted what God designed for our good and turned it into evil. We take obedience, which should be a loving response to God, and turn it into a way to twist God’s arm into loving us more or blessing us more.

Just like a child who tries to trick his parent out of cleaning the playroom, God is greatly displeased when we use his law as a weapon against him.

Our obedience becomes an act of rebellion when we use it to replace grace.

Religion says, “I obey; therefore, God accepts me.”

The gospel says, “God has accepted me in Christ; therefore, I obey.”

The order matters.

Abraham Believed God

Paul continues his argument by pointing back to Abraham:

“Just as Abraham ‘believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness.’ Know then that it is those of faith who are the sons of Abraham.”—Galatians 3:6–7

Abraham was not made righteous because he had done enough. He believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness.

Abraham brought no credentials. He came with faith in the promise of God.

Paul’s argument is that this has always been the way God saves his people. God does not save people because they have earned his blessing. He gives the blessing through faith.

The gospel was announced beforehand to Abraham when God said, “In you shall all the nations be blessed.”

This blessing would not remain within one family or one nation. It would come to all those who share Abraham’s faith.

We are not brought into God’s family through our ancestry, our religious background, or our performance. We are brought in through faith in Christ.

Christ Became a Curse for Us

The law does not save us. It exposes our guilt.

Paul writes:

“Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us.”—Galatians 3:13

The cross is where your earnings go to die.

Christ did not come to help us pay the rest of our debt. He came because we could not pay it.

We stood under the curse of the law. Jesus took that curse upon himself.

He traded places with us on the cross. He received what we should have received, and in return, we are treated as he deserves to be treated.

Paul says this happened:

“So that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promised Spirit through faith.”—Galatians 3:14

Christ took the curse so that we could receive the blessing.

We do not receive the Holy Spirit as a wage. We receive the Spirit as a gift.

We do not become God’s children because we have proven ourselves useful. We become useful because God has first made us his children.

Bleeding Charity

One of my favorite dialogues from all the books I’ve read is a passage from The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis.

In this dialogue, the Ghost—representing a soul from hell—clings to a sense of self-righteousness and entitlement based on his own deeds and perceived moral standing. He believes he deserves certain rights because of his actions and life choices.

He explains that he has gone straight all his life. He admits that he was not religious and had faults, but insists that he did his best. He paid for what he took. If he received wages, it was because he did the work.

He wants nothing more than his rights.

The other man tells him that getting his rights would not be good news. He says, “I haven’t got my rights, or I should not be here. You will not get yours either. You’ll get something far better.”

Still, the Ghost insists that he does not want anyone’s “bleeding charity.”

The response is:

“Then do. At once. Ask for the Bleeding Charity. Everything is here for the asking and nothing can be bought.”

Christianity isn’t a marketplace. It’s a mercy seat.

As Christians, our hope eternally is based on the reality that we are charity cases. We need the bleeding charity of Christ.

This is the understanding that we are poor in spirit. Insisting on earning our favor or our righteousness is—as Tim Keller said—“being middle class in spirit.”

The poor in spirit know they cannot pay.

They know they do not have enough righteousness to bargain with God. They do not ask for their rights. They ask for mercy.

Everything Is Here for the Asking

The question is not whether you have worked hard enough.

You haven’t.

The question is not whether you have obeyed enough, prayed enough, served enough, or made yourself useful enough.

You haven’t.

The question is whether Christ has done enough.

He has.

The Christian life begins when we stop bargaining with God. We come before him without leverage, without credentials, and without any claim that he owes us something.

We ask for the Bleeding Charity.

Everything is here for the asking, and nothing can be bought.