This doctrine, then, of apostolic fear—of an apostle being scared of being cast away—is thus proved by word definition and context far and near. The apostle Paul was so exalted in his office and so awestruck at the riches of God’s grace that he often asked himself if he could ever live up to his calling and prove himself to have been chosen by God, not only to salvation, but to preach salvation to others. This mindset is understandable from Saul of Tarsus, the Pharisaic persecutor, saved by grace, as he contemplated the measure of the undeserved favor that an apostle of God must, of necessity, be the recipient of. The castaway scare in 1 Corinthians 9.27 is not merely rhetorical or hyperbolic.
It is the Holy Spirit who inspired all those verses that have just been walked through. “Grieve not the holy Spirit of God” (Ephesians 4.30.) To be scared of being cast away is a fear that we should all feel; it is not something to be cured of until we have harbored in heaven. The Holy Spirit regenerates, assures, comforts, and gives inexpressible peace and joy. When he is grieved he withdraws, our confirmation is clouded, and the joy that he causes evaporates. We will doubt our salvation when we live less than holy lives. But as we become more holy we are thrown into doubt by smaller and smaller sins. So the Spirit protects us before and behind, both on the backslide and on the increase. The apostle Paul lived on the increase. Notwithstanding periods of ‘desertion,’ the Holy Ghost draws closer to a holier Christian and he is more easily grieved in that person by a lesser sin. More demand is laid upon us the holier we get. We see ourselves as potential castaways unless we improve. Holier persons feel more pressure. They either grieve the Holy One by sins less grave because better things are expected of them, or they are given to feel grief caused by sin more keenly. The more a saint sees of God, the more he sees himself as a potential castaway. A less mature Christian will doubt when he sins outright. A holier one feels doubtful even when he is tempted. The ministry of the Holy Spirit is involved in this—in our sanctification. When we fail to mortify, Satan accuses us of not being real and tries to throw us into despair; and the Holy Spirit makes us feel unworthy and counsels us to prove ourselves anew. Satan condemns; the Holy Ghost exhorts; we can learn from both by interpreting each one. The devil tries to instill a sense that our case is hopeless in the hope that sin will win out; to urge resistance to sin, the Holy Ghost convicts, and we are pricked to drive on. The Accuser would have us quit; the Comforter would have us check. One wants to ruin us; the other wants us to win the race. The Devil is our Accuser; the Spirit is our Counselor. We must distinguish and listen to what is right. The Dragon tries to burn up faith; the Holy Ghost is there to fire faith up; both use fears and doubts to do the work. Satan’s temptation is the Spirit’s test; or, this temptation is at least used by the Spirit to prove the Christian. The devil casts doubt to cause despair; the Holy Spirit uses doubt to urge perseverance. The Dragon tries an unholy consumption; the Holy Ghost uses a communion of entreaty. The dove led Noah off the ark to a place where he might work and bear good fruit. The Holy Ghost leads us from salvation to sanctification. Should we not think ourselves castaways unless we step off the ark to bear good fruit? If Noah had stayed on the ark, eventually it would have come apart, and he would have been drowned. Saved Christians are sanctified Christians who work salvation out just as Noah and his family worked the ground after they got off the boat. The Old Testament dove led Noah to leave the ark; the New Testament Dove nudges us to press on. He does it with a blend of authority and gentleness. While we deserve the anger of Moses and the rigor of the law, we are blessed with a more affectionate ministry. And since it is right to thank God for everything, we may thank him even for Satan’s accusations. If we feel that we are just easing into the kingdom instead of pressing into it, are we striving after holiness, praying in earnest, learning our doctrines, putting down sin? If we are not pressing on and through, are we not wise to wonder about our faith? If our Christianity is just a stand, not a race, it is not thoroughly biblical, and it may not be enough. Since faith is an instrument, it is meant to be used, not only once for all as the rope of salvation, but on a regular basis as if to climb by the rope up to heaven. Entering the kingdom of God ‘through much tribulation’ is to ‘continue in the faith’ (Acts 14.22), and this is contiguous with what the apostle says about his own fear of being found accursed in the end through lack of effort. To spur us on, to help us mortify, to justify the fact that God will not be mocked, and because of our laziness to be holy and our unwillingness to live righteously, should we not be thankful that even an apostle was scared of being cast away in the end? The suspicion of ourselves should rouse us to push on in holy fear. Many of us will, at the judgment, wish we had entertained more doubt, for among us are many who presume to have grace but do not have it. What if a little more doubt exposed presumption? What if it were used as a step toward contrition and remission of sin? It is obvious from the verses that have been adduced, that there is a holy use to be made of doubts and fears. It is folly—maybe perilous folly—to mistake all our fears and doubts for the devil’s indictments, to melancholia, or to the fact that we don’t understand our doctrines well enough to have the assurance that a pastor says we should have. It is good to be assured; but it is vital to not pooh-pooh doubts.
Some doubting of our salvation is the norm on this side of eternity. Speaking of what it was like on earth for members of the church triumphant in heaven, Thomas Boston says: “The saints in this life were still labouring to enter into that rest; but Satan was always pulling them back, their corruptions always drawing them down, insomuch that they have sometimes been left to hang by a hair of promise, if I may be allowed the expression, not without fear of falling into the lake of fire” (Thomas Boston, Human Nature in its Fourfold State, p. 463.) Speaking of professors who are wont to exude overconfidence, C. H. Spurgeon impersonates one of them to make his point: “I can tell you, whatever you may think, I am genuine enough I never had a doubt or fear. I know I was chosen of God; and though I do not exactly live as I could wish, I know if I do not go to heaven, very few will ever have a chance. Why, sir, I have been a deacon the last ten years, and a member twenty; and I am not to be shaken by anything you say. As for my neighbor here, who sits near me, I do not think he ought to be so sure; but I have never had a doubt for thirty years.” Then Spurgeon gives his answer to that: “Oh my dear friend, can you excuse me? I will doubt for you. If you have no doubt yourself, I begin to doubt. If you are quite so sure, I really must suspect you; for I have noticed that true Christians are the most suspicious in the world; they are always afraid of themselves. I never met with a truly good man but he always felt he was not good enough; and as you are so particularly good, you must excuse me if I cannot quite endorse your security. You may be very good, but if you will take a trifle of my advice, I recommend you to ‘examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith,’ lest, being puffed up by your carnal fleshly mind, you fall into the snare of the wicked one. ‘Not too sure,’ is a very good motto for the Christian. ‘Make your calling and election sure,’ if you like; but do not make your opinion of yourself so sure” (C. H. Spurgeon, False Professors Solemnly Warned.)
The great apostle Paul was never ‘too sure.’ He allowed his low opinion of himself to make and to keep him suspicious. To simply spurn all doubts and fears would have been to quench the Holy Spirit. When suspicion leads to perseverance, as it did for the apostle, it is holy. If it is holy, the Spirit has had something to do with it. The Holy Spirit helps us through a fear of being cast away at last. Genuine faith is progressive. It improves. If we are not improving, then we need to labor apace to make our profession certain. “But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.” It is better to doubt a little and be saved, than to presume too much and be unsaved. Suppose that a man is dangling from a cliff. It is safer for him to hang on to a branch doubtfully with fear than with confidence and presumption. It is safer to believe on Jesus fearfully and nervously than over-familiarly. It is better to hope to get to heaven than to presume to go there for sure—without ever a doubt. Hesitation about our security is more apostolic than overconfidence. We should rather doubt a little than stake our destiny on doubtless faith.
Doubts and fears do not negate an assurance of being saved in the end. There is no contradiction in being assured of eternal life, and yet being convinced of the necessity of proving salvation through perseverance. “Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised)” (Hebrews 10. 22, 23.) There is a Scriptural summary in The Canons of Dort (1618-19) of this assurance relative to various doubts: “Of this preservation of the elect to salvation, and of their perseverance in the faith, true believers for themselves may and do obtain assurance according to the measure of their faith, whereby they arrive at the certain persuasion that they ever will continue true and living members of the Church; and that they experience forgiveness of sins, and will at last inherit eternal life…The Scripture moreover testifies that believers in this life have to struggle with various carnal doubts, and that under grievous temptations they are not always sensible of this full assurance of faith and certainty of persevering” (Article 9 and part of 11 on The Perseverance of the Saints.) All believers should expect to have ‘various carnal doubts’ because not one of them is perfectly sanctified, not even an apostle. He who has no doubt, therefore, must think himself holier than he is; he who thinks himself holier than he is must be presumptuous; and presumption belongs to the same family as hypocrisy and smug security. The Holy Spirit, through conviction, uses fears and doubts as goads to prick us in the right direction. He sanctifies them, as it were, and puts them to good use.
The Holy Spirit uses what remains in us of the flesh to impress a holy doubt, or to let a little doubt linger and nag, for the disciple’s own good, impelling him to persevere. So this doubt is relative to sin, conscience, and the Holy Spirit. As long as we are not sanctified so much that we are glorified or gone to heaven, there is a doubt that must remain, as we feel, and struggle with, the remnants of indwelling sin, which always wrestles against ‘the law of God after the inward man’ (Romans 7.22.) God uses the clash of these contrary forces to guard us from expecting an easy route to glory, because there is no easy route. We must persevere—be as holy as can be. The apostle was assured of his preservation; but he was convinced that perdition was the end of any, including himself, who did not persevere by a demanding course of increasing sanctification until the end. It is not popular to doubt salvation today. The kind of assurance that never doubts is not apostolic, though. The absence of dubiety is more dangerous by far than feelings of uncertainty. Disquietude induces us to make our calling and election sure. This exercise should be ongoing until we cross over into the Other World.
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