The breastplate of righteousness is protection for our heart. We wear the breastplate to stop any attacks that get past the sword or shield. But the Bible only talks about the breastplate; it does not mention a back plate.

Why?

Ephesians 6:14 gives us the answer. “Stand firm.” We are ordered to stand firm, and if we do the enemy will never see our back. It is when we turn to flee that the enemy has a clear shot. The Word of God tells us in James 4:7 to “resist the devil and he will flee from you.” If we stand firm and resist the devil, then he will flee from us and not the other way around. It is a promise of God. And remember Jesus has got your back.

If fire is hot and ice is cold, what am I? I don’t feel as though I am either. Certainly right now I am not hot or lukewarm, so I must be cold…I do feel cold in my heart at times, but if I’m cold does that mean that I’m not ignitable. For ice is not ignitable. I do wish to be a flame and free.

As we consider various means by which Christians grow think of each one of them as a book you’re putting on the shelf of your life. In order to keep those books in place, you need two bookends.

The first bookend we need is the righteousness of Christ. The most important question any person can ask is: how can I (a sinful person) be accepted by an infinitely holy and righteous God? Paul told us that it’s by trusting in the righteousness of Christ. Paul counted all his impressive religious credentials as rubbish in order that he might “gain Christ and
 be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from
 the law, but that which is through faith in Christ; the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith” (Phil 3:8-9). Paul found his acceptance with God not in his own imperfect obedience, as impressive as it was, but by trusting in the perfect righteousness of Jesus Christ, which God credits to all who trust in him as savior. This is what faith is: trusting in Jesus Christ alone as one’s savior.

The second bookend we must set in place is the power of Christ. Just as our acceptance with God must come through the righteousness of Christ, so our power to live the Christian life must come from Christ as well. As Jesus indicated in John 15:5, we have no ability within ourselves to grow. All of the ability must come from him.

The common element in these two bookends is the word dependence. We’re dependent upon the righteousness of Christ for our acceptance with God, and upon the power of Christ for our ability to pursue spiritual growth.

The good news of the gospel is that God’s grace is available on our worst days. That’s true because Christ fully fulfilled the claims of God’s justice and fully paid the penalty of a broken law when he died on the cross in our place.

Does this mean God no longer cares whether we obey or disobey? Not at all. The scripture speaks of our grieving the Holy Spirit through our sins (Eph 4:30). And Paul prayed that we “may please [God] in every way” (Col 1:10). Clearly, he cares about our conduct and will discipline us when we refuse to repent of conscious sin. But God is
 no longer our Judge. Through Christ he is now our heavenly Father who disciplines us only out of love and only for our good.

If God’s blessings were dependent on our performance, they would be insufficient indeed. Even our best works are shot through with sin (with varying degrees of impure motives and lots of imperfect performance.) We’re always, to some degree, looking out for ourselves, guarding our borders, protecting our egos. It’s because we don’t realize the utter depravity of the sin remaining in us and staining everything we
 do that we entertain any notion of earning God’s blessings through our obedience. And because we don’t fully grasp that Jesus paid the penalty for all our sins, we despair of God’s blessing when we’ve failed to live up to even our own desires to please God.

Your worst days are never so bad that you’re beyond the reach of God’s grace. And your best days are never so good that you’re beyond the need of God’s grace.

At the time of Christ’s death, the cross was an instrument of incredible horror and shame. It was a most wretched and degrading punishment inflicted only on slaves and the lowliest of people. If free men were at any time subjected to crucifixion for great crimes such as treason or insurrection, the sentence could not be executed until they were put in the category of slaves by degradation and their freedom taken away by flogging.

How could it be that the eternal son of God (by whom all things were created and for whom all things were created) would end up in his human creation dying one of the cruelest and humiliating deaths ever devised by man?

We know that Jesus’ death on the cross did not take him by surprise. He continually predicted it to his disciples. And with his impending crucifixion before him, Jesus himself said, “What shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour” (John 12:27). Jesus said he came to die.

But why did Jesus come to die? The apostles Paul and Peter gave us the answer in clear, brief terms. Paul wrote, “Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures,” and Peter wrote, “For Christ died for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God” (1 Cor 15:3; 1 Peter 3:18).

Christ died for our sins. Jesus Christ, the eternal son of God, took upon himself a human nature and died a horrible death on our behalf. That is the reason for the cross. He suffered what we should have suffered. He died in our place to pay the penalty for our sins.

I struggle with legalistic tendencies even though I know better.  When I silently begin to pray, asking God to bring to my mind something suitable for the occasion (whatever that occasion may be). Then I began to add up my merits and demerits for the day: had I had a quiet time that morning? Had I entertained any lustful thoughts or told any half-truths? I’d fallen into the performance trap.

I quickly recognize what I am doing. “Lord,” I‘d say, “I don’t know the answer to those questions, but it doesn’t matter. I come to you today in the name of Jesus and, by his merit alone, I ask for your help.”

And God answers. Is it because I had a quiet time that morning or fulfilled other spiritual disciplines or hadn’t entertained any sinful thoughts that day? No, God answers my prayer for only one reason: Jesus Christ had already purchased that answer to prayer two thousand years ago on a Roman cross. God answered on the basis of his grace alone, not because of my merits or demerits.

If holiness is so basic to the Christian life, why do we not experience it more in daily living? Why do so many Christians feel constantly defeated in their struggle with sin? Why does the church of Jesus Christ so often seem to be more conformed to the world around it than to God?

Our first problem is that our attitude toward sin is more self-centered than God-centered. We’re more concerned about our own “victory” over sin than we are about the fact that our sins grieve God’s heart. We cannot tolerate failure in our struggle with sin mainly because we are success driven, not because we know it’s offensive to God.

W. S. Plumer said “We never see sin aright until we see it as against God… . all sin is against God in this sense: that it is his law that is broken, his authority that is despised, his government that is set at naught… . Pharaoh and Balaam, Saul and Judas each said, ‘I have sinned’; but the returning prodigal said, ‘I have sinned against heaven and before thee’; and David said, ‘against Thee, Thee only have I sinned.’” God wants us to walk in obedience, not victory. Obedience is oriented towards God; victory is oriented towards self. This may seem to be merely splitting hairs over semantics, but there’s a subtle, self-centered attitude at the root of many of our difficulties with sin. Until we deal with this attitude, we won’t consistently walk in holiness.

Victory is a by-product of obedience. As we concentrate on living an obedient, holy life, we’ll certainly experience the joy of victory over sin. So it’s time to look at sin as an offense against a God, instead of as a personal defeat only.

We can’t begin to appreciate the good news of the gospel until we see our deep need. Most people, even believers, have never given much thought to how desperate our condition is outside of Christ. Few people ever think about the dreadful consequences of being under the wrath of God. And none of us even begin to realize how truly sinful we are.

Jesus once told a story about a king’s servant who owed his master ten thousand talents. (Just one talent was equal to about twenty years’ wages for a workingman.) Why would Jesus use such an unrealistically large amount when he knew that in real life it would have been impossible for any servant to accumulate such a debt?

Jesus was fond of using embellishments to make his point. That enormous amount represents a spiritual debt every one of us owes to God. It’s the debt of our sins. For each of us, it’s an amazing amount.

This is what the gospel is all about. Jesus paid our debt to the full. And he did far more. He also purchased for us an eternal inheritance
 of limitless worth. That’s why Paul wrote of the “unsearchable riches of Christ” (Eph 3:8). And God wants us to enjoy those unsearchable riches in the here and now even in the midst of difficult and discouraging circumstances.

Without some genuine conviction of our sin, we can have no serious feeling of personal interest in the gospel. What’s more, this conviction should actually grow throughout our Christian lives. In fact, one sign of spiritual growth is an increased awareness of our sinfulness.

One of the best kept secrets among Christians today is this: Jesus paid it all. I mean ALL. He not only purchased your forgiveness of sins and your ticket to heaven, He purchased every blessing and every answer to prayer you will ever receive. Every one of them, no exceptions.

Why is this such a well-kept secret? The core issue is that we don’t believe we’re still spiritually “bankrupt.” having come into God’s kingdom by grace alone solely on the weight of another, we’re now trying to pay our own way by our performance. We declared only temporary bankruptcy, we’re now trying to live by good works rather than by grace.

After we become Christians, we begin to put away our more obvious sins. We also start attending church, put money in the offering plate, and maybe join a small group Bible study. We see some positive change in our lifestyle, and we begin to feel pretty good about ourselves. We’re now ready to arise from bankruptcy and pay our own way in the Christian life.

Then the day comes when we fall on our face spiritually. We lapse back into an old sin or fail to do what we should have done. And we assume we’ve forfeited all blessings from God for some undetermined period of time. Our expectation of God’s blessing depends on how well we feel we’re living the Christian life. We think we can and must pay our own way with God.

Try this test: Think of a time recently when you really fell on your face spiritually. Then imagine that immediately afterward you encountered a terrific opportunity to share Christ with a non-Christian friend. Could you have done it with complete confidence in God’s help?

I was going through an old hymnal earlier tonight and came across this hymn. It’s called “The Doubting Christian,” written by Joseph Hart, who is the author of my favorite hymn “Come Ye Sinner” 

The Doubting Christian
 by Joseph Hart

If unbelief’s that sin accursed, 
Abhorred by God above, 
Because, of all opposers worst, 
It fights against his love, 

How shall a heart that doubts like mine, 
Dismayed at every breath, 
Pretend to live the life divine, 
Or fight the fight of faith? 

Conscience accuses from within, 
And others from without; 
I feel my soul the sink of sin, 
And this produces doubt. 

[When thousand sins, of various dyes, 
Corruptions dark and foul, 
Daily within my bosom rise, 
And blacken all my soul, 

I groan, and grieve, and cry, and call 
On Jesus for relief; 
But, that delayed, to doubting fall, 
Of all my sins the chief. 

Such dire disorders vex my soul, 
That ill engenders ill; 
And when my heart I feel so foul, 
I make it fouler still.] 

In this distress, the course I take 
Is still to call and pray, 
And wait the time when Christ shall speak, 
And drive my foes away. 

For that blest hour I sigh and pant, 
With wishes warm and strong; 
But dearest Lord, lest these should faint, 
O do not tarry long.