The

Crucial Questions Series

By R. C. Sproul

Who Is Jesus?

Can I Trust the Bible?

Does Prayer Change Things?

Can I Know God’s Will?

How Should I Live in This World?

What Does It Mean to Be Born Again?

Can I Be Sure I’m Saved?

What Is Faith?

What Can I Do with My Guilt?

What Is the Trinity?

What Is Baptism?

Can I Have Joy in My Life?

Who Is the Holy Spirit?

Does God Control Everything?

 How Can I Develop a Christian Conscience?

What Is the Lord’s Supper?

What Is the Church?
What Is Repentance?

What Is the Relationship between Church and State?

Are These the Last Days?

What Is the Great Commission?

Can I Lose My Salvation?
Free digital editions available at
ReformationTrust.com/FreeCQ
Can I Lose My Salvation?

© 2015 by R.C. Sproul

Published by Reformation Trust Publishing

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All Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English

Standard Version, copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a
division of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights
reserved.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Sproul, R. C. (Robert Charles), 1939-

Can I lose my salvation? / by R.C. Sproul. -- First edition.
pages cm. -- (Crucial questions series ; No. 22)
ISBN 978-1-56769-499-4
1. Assurance (Theology) 2. Salvation--Christianity. I. Title.
BT785.S675 2015
234--dc23
 2015018384
 CONTENTS
One— Stones of Remembrance

Two—Those Who Fall Away

Three—The Unforgivable Sin

Four—Impossible to Be Restored Again

Five—The Gift of Perseverance

Six—The Carnal Christian

Seven—Our Great High Priest

S oon after I became a Christian in college, a friend of mine took
me to meet an elderly lady who lived alone in a small trailer. This
woman was one of the most radiant Christian women I have ever
met. She was an authentic prayer warrior; she would pray eight
hours every day for all kinds of concerns. My friend explained to
this lady that I had just recently become a Christian. Delighted,
she looked at me and said, “Young man, what you need to do is
drive a spiritual stake in the ground right now.” I had no idea what
she was talking about, but she explained to me that I needed to
make sure that my conversion was forever. I was to remember this
time in my life, the moment of my conversion, so that when I
would come to struggles in the future, I would look back to that
moment.

Her advice was reminiscent of an event in the book of Joshua,

which tells the story of the Israelites’ entering the Promised Land.
The Israelites had gone through the exodus, the crossing of the
Red Sea, and the forty years of wandering in the wilderness. Now,
finally, they were preparing to enter Canaan. But this final leg of
the journey wouldn’t be easy, either.
Between them and the Promised Land was the Jordan River. It
was at flood stage; it had overflowed its banks and was about a
mile wide. And of course, on the other side were the Canaanites,
who had heard of Israel’s approach and were preparing to meet
them.

As the people of Israel stood by the river, God gave Joshua their
marching orders: the priests were to advance to the water carrying
the ark of the covenant. As they stepped into the water, the river
rolled back twenty miles and the riverbed was dry. And so this
whole body of people crossed over the Jordan into the Promised
Land.

Then Joshua gave the people an assignment:

When all the nation had finished passing over the
Jordan, the LORD said to Joshua, “Take twelve men
from the people, from each tribe a man, and command
them, saying, ‘Take twelve stones from here out of
the midst of the Jordan, from the very place where the
priests’ feet stood firmly, and bring them over with
you and lay them down in the place where you lodge
tonight.’” Then Joshua called the twelve men from
the people of Israel, whom he had appointed, a man
from each tribe. And Joshua said to them, “Pass on
before the ark of the LORD your God into the midst of
the Jordan, and take up each of you a stone upon his
shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the
people of Israel, that this may be a sign among you.
When your children ask in time to come, ‘What do
those stones mean to you?’ then you shall tell them
that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the
ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it passed over
the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. So
these stones shall be to the people of Israel a
memorial forever.” (Josh. 4:1–7)
The people were to put a pillar of twelve stones in the middle of
this riverbed as a memorial to this event. Then, representatives
from each tribe were each to take a stone from the riverbed and set
up a memorial at Gilgal, where they were staying that night.

There are examples of this kind of memorial-making throughout

the Old Testament. Noah built an altar upon being rescued from
the ravages of the flood (Gen. 8:20–22). Jacob set up a memorial
after his vision of the ladder reaching to heaven (Gen. 28:10–22).
David built an altar at the spot where a plague from the Lord
stopped (1 Sam. 24). These monuments marked decisive moments
in history for all future generations so that when the people of
Israel were afraid and needed consolation, they could look and see
this reminder that God was with them. He had brought them thus
far and He had promised to take them the rest of the way. In other
words, these memorials were to be visible reminders for the
people in the midst of their struggle, in the midst of their doubts,
in the midst of their fears, to look to the God who had delivered
them in the first place.

As my friend impressed upon me, we need this kind of reminder in

an uncertain world. As we struggle through the Christian life, we
sometimes wrestle with our security in Christ. We want to be safe,
to feel secure, and we need assurance that our security will last.
The key question here is, “Can a person who is truly and soundly
converted to Christ lose his or her salvation?” Or, more
personally, “Can I lose my salvation?” This gets at the issue of the
doctrine of eternal security, also known as the perseverance of the
saints, which is the P in the famous Calvinist acronym TULIP.

This being such a crucial issue for believers, it has sparked great
controversy through the history of the church, leading to a variety
of answers to the question. During the sixteenth century, the
Roman Catholic Church disputed with the Reformers because the
Reformers said that a person can be justified by faith alone, and
upon their justification, they can have an assurance of their present
state of salvation. But the Reformers made a distinction between
assurance of salvation—that is, certainty that one is currently
saved, with no comment on whether one will remain saved—and
perseverance of the saints—certainty that one will continue to be
saved into the eternal future. Rome denies the doctrine of eternal
security and even denies the doctrine of the assurance of salvation
except for a special, elite group of saints such as the Virgin Mary
or Francis of Assisi. Because Rome has always taught that one can
commit a mortal sin and thus lose salvific grace, they opposed the
Reformation concept of perseverance or eternal security.

Within the Reformation itself, there was a dispute between the

Lutherans and the Reformed because many Lutheran theologians
took the position that a person can have a present assurance of
salvation, but that saving faith can be lost, and with it, one’s
justification. In the later development of the Reformed churches,
there was a fierce debate in the Netherlands. A group called the
Remonstrants modified Dutch Calvinism and argued against the
perseverance of the saints, taking the position that salvation can be
lost.

In the Bible itself, there are many passages that strongly suggest
that people can indeed lose their salvation (e.g., Heb. 6:4–6; 2
Peter 2:20–22). And yet, on the other side, there are also many
passages that seem to be promises that God will preserve His
people to the end. In the latter category, for instance, there is
Paul’s statement that “he who began a good work in you will bring
it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil. 1:6). Scripture
has a unified message, but it’s difficult at times to reconcile these
two sets of teachings. And in the final analysis, it is through
looking at Scripture that the question should be resolved.

In the ancient church, the Latin phrase that was used in connection
with this debate was militia christianae. This phrase has to do with
the ongoing struggle of the Christian life. I think that’s where we
live—not in the abstract environment of philosophical or
theological concepts, but in the midst of a real sense of struggle in
our daily lives as Christians. The idea of militia christianae points
to the struggle of the Christian life, the struggle of the Christian
who is called to endure in the faith.

We remember Jesus’ statement that “the one who endures to the

end will be saved” (Matt. 24:13). We think also of when Jesus
said, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit
for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). Jesus warns those who have
come out of false beliefs and embraced the faith not to look back.

Clearly, there are those who seem to make a credible profession of

faith and then later repudiate that profession of faith. I think that
anyone who has been a Christian for more than a year knows
people like that, people who, to all outward appearances, seem to
have been dedicated to Christianity and then later left the faith or
left the church. And so we have to ask the question: How is that
possible, if we are to maintain the idea that one who was once in
grace will remain in grace?

This question can get very personal, as well. It’s not just
theoretical. As we experience the ups and downs of life, those
changes that are part of the impermanency of our daily experience,
we are tempted to raise the ultimate question: If I’m presently in a
state of faith, if I’m presently embracing Christ, will that change?
Will the status that I enjoy in the presence of God change? Can I
lose my salvation?
T here are perhaps few things as complicated as the golf swing.
There are a hundred things to remember, and keeping track of
every little thing can feel overwhelming. Picking up the game can
take hours upon hours of practice, and it seems that it can never
truly be mastered.

Over the course of my playing career, there have been many times
when I’ve learned a swing key—a drill, position, or something else
to focus on—that I thought would transform my game. I would be
so excited to go out on the golf course and try this key, and I
would be thrilled as the key would work in an amazingly
productive manner, helping me shoot a great round of golf.

One day, after using a particular swing key, I thought I had it all
figured out. But my golf pro warned me that there is a junior-
grade deity who hangs around golf courses waiting for golfers to
think they’ve got it figured out. Then he takes it all away.

The phenomenon of the transient usefulness of swing keys once

led me to accept the existence of what I call “WOOD keys,”
meaning “works only one day.” I’ve had lots of WOOD keys. I
repeat the exact same technique that I used the first time, but on
the second day, nothing seems to be working right. I’ve certainly
relied on a few of those WOOD keys, and my golf game has
advanced one day, only to fall again the next day.

The Bible speaks about this dynamic in the life of some professing
believers. What we’re describing here theologically is called
apostasy, a term based on a Greek word meaning “to stand away
from.” To fall into apostasy means to reach a position but then to
abandon it. So, when we talk about those who have become
apostate or who have committed apostasy, we’re talking about
those who have fallen from the faith or at least have fallen from
their first profession of faith. This is the exact topic we’re
discussing when we ask questions about the doctrine of eternal
security or the perseverance of the saints. We’re asking: Is it
possible for a Christian who’s truly regenerated, who truly
believes in Christ, to apostatize?

There are many texts in the New Testament that warn about this
presumed possibility. Paul admonishes the Corinthians,
“Therefore, let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall” (1
Cor. 10:14). Is Paul merely rebuking a kind of arrogance whereby
a person has a false assurance of his standing, or is he warning
against ever coming to the conclusion that you are in a state of
grace that cannot be lost? Those who argue against the doctrine of
eternal security say Paul was here clearly denying such a teaching
and warning against it. Since it hardly seems likely that Paul
would warn against the possibility of such a fall if indeed such a
fall were manifestly impossible, they interpret this verse to be a
denial of the possibility of eternal security.

Another verse that is sometimes regarded as evidence against the

guaranteed perseverance of the saints appears in Paul’s first letter
to Timothy. Near the end of his life and ministry, Paul urges his
protégé to fight the good fight of faith:

This charge I entrust to you, Timothy, my child, in
accordance with the prophecies previously made
about you, that by them you may wage the good
warfare, holding faith and a good conscience. By
rejecting this, some have made shipwreck of their
faith, among whom are Hymenaeus and Alexander,
whom I have handed over to Satan that they may
learn not to blaspheme. (1 Tim. 1:18–20)

Here, Paul gives instructions and admonitions that are related to

the battle or the good fight of the faith, the ongoing struggle of the
Christian life. He warns Timothy to keep the faith and a good
conscience and to be reminded of those who didn’t. He also
speaks of particular individuals, Hymenaeus and Alexander, who,
first of all, made shipwreck of their faith; and, second of all, were
actually excommunicated by the Apostle (this is what is meant by
having “handed [them] over to Satan that they may learn not to
blaspheme”). So, here we have not just an abstract warning but a
specific, personal warning coupled with concrete examples of
people who apparently have experienced a grievous fall away
from the purity of their Christian faith.

Elsewhere, Paul himself speaks of pummeling his body to subdue

it and of being involved in the discipline of the things of God lest,
he says, “I myself should be disqualified” (1 Cor. 9:27). Paul thus
sets before the reader, at least hypothetically, the possibility that
he, even as the Apostle to the Gentiles, might become disqualified.
This wording is similar to that in Jesus’ warnings in the Sermon on
the Mount that many would come to him on the last day, saying,
“Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out
demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?”
and He will say, “I never knew you; depart from me, you workers
of lawlessness” (Matt. 7:22–23).

Of course, the strongest warning against apostasy in all of

Scripture is found in Hebrews 6, which is so important to this
discussion that it receives its own treatment in chapter four of this
book.

It is perfectly clear from the text of 1 Timothy 1, as well as

narrative examples that we find in the Scriptures— for example,
the well-known leaders King David and the Apostle Peter—that it
is certainly possible for people who profess faith in Jesus Christ to
fall in some sense of the word. We noticed in the case of
Hymenaeus and Alexander that Paul had excommunicated them
for their own instruction that they might learn not to blaspheme.
Several questions remain, however, about the nature of the
spiritual crises that are recorded for us in Scripture and of the
egregious occasions when professing believers fall and fall
radically. These questions have to do with whether there are
different degrees of falling and whether falling radically means
that one has irretrievably lost one’s salvation.

The Italian Reformed scholar Girolamo Zanchi once made the

distinction between a serious fall and a total fall. He argued that
the Bible is replete with examples of true believers who truly fall
away, who fall into gross sin and, on some occasions, protracted
periods of impenitence. This is a serious fall. An example is
David, who remained impenitent regarding his sin with Bathsheba
for more than a year before he was brought back to repentance and
renewal of his faith. So, the question is not “Do people fall?” They
do fall. Each and every Christian is subject to the possibility of a
serious fall. But is someone who commits a serious fall eternally
lost—making it a total fall—or is the fall a temporary condition
that will be remedied by his restoration?

Church discipline has the aim of restoring those who have made a
profession of faith but then live in great, impenitent sin. In other
words, church discipline attempts to keep a serious fall from
turning into a total fall. There are stages or steps to church
discipline, the final step of which is excommunication. But when a
person is excommunicated from fellowship in the church and is
considered by the church as being in the same state as an
unbeliever, even that is designed to reclaim and to recover that
person, to see him restored to fellowship. Similarly, when Paul
handed Hymenaeus and Alexander over to Satan, he still held out
hope that through such a disciplinary process they would come to
their senses and be restored once again to the fellowship of Christ.

While some will return after a serious fall, some will not, because
they never actually had faith. They made a false profession of
faith; they did not possess what they professed. When the heat
comes, such a person will flee from his original profession,
resulting in a total fall. In cases like this, the conversion was not
genuine in the first place. This is illustrated in Jesus’ parable of
the sower (Matt. 13:1– 9). In that parable, the seed that falls on
different kinds of ground—the hard ground of the path, rocky
ground, ground covered with thorns, and the good soil. In some
cases, the seed germinates initially, but it is withered by the
noonday sun or choked by the thorns. As Jesus explains, the
parable refers to people and how they receive the Word as it
comes to them (vv. 18–23). Some receive the Word and profess
faith but do not endure; they fall away.

The Apostle John speaks of those who went out from the midst of
the communion of fellowship. He said: “They went out from us,
but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would
have continued with us. But they went out, that it might become
plain that they all are not of us” (1 John 2:19). So John, at least in
that particular incident, does speak clearly under the inspiration of
the Holy Spirit about certain people who departed from the faith,
and he says of those people, “they were not of us.” At least in this
particular case, he is describing the apostasy of people who had
made a profession of faith but who were never really converted.

The challenge, then, is to distinguish between a true believer in the

midst of a serious fall (who will at some point in the future be
restored) and a person who has made a false profession of faith.
We cannot read the hearts of others, so we do not know, when we
see a person who has made a profession of faith later repudiate
that profession, whether the person may yet be a true convert who
is only temporarily abandoning his profession and will return to it.

Many of us have known friends or family members who seemed

for all outward appearances to have made a genuine profession of
faith. We thought their profession was credible. We embraced
them as brothers or sisters, only to find out that they later
repudiated that faith. What are we to do in a situation like that? I
recommend at least two responses: first, pray like crazy, and
second, wait. We don’t know the final outcome of the situation,
but God does, and only God can preserve that soul.
I frequently receive letters from around the world. People write
in asking questions—sometimes the questions are more academic,
and sometimes they are more personal and practical. Very often,
possibly at least once a month, I get a letter from someone who is
profoundly concerned that he or she has committed the
unforgivable sin spoken of by Jesus. While this is a biblical and
theological issue, it’s not an abstract one, as these folks are
profoundly tormented by that concern. The question of whether or
not we can fall out of God’s good graces touches us at the core of
our faith and our lives.

The warning about the unforgivable sin that comes from Jesus is
contained in each of the Synoptic Gospels. When considering this
issue, it’s important to keep in mind the context, as without the
context, we run the risk of misunderstanding what Jesus is
referring to. To get a sense of the context, let’s look at Matthew’s
account:

 Then a demon-oppressed man who was blind and
mute was brought to him, and he healed him, so that
the man spoke and saw. And all the people were
amazed, and said, “Can this be the Son of David?”
But when the Pharisees heard it, they said, “It is only
by Beelzebul, the prince of demons, that this man
casts out demons.” (Matt. 12:22–24)

The issue of the unforgivable sin arises after Jesus heals a demon-
possessed man, which astonished the people who observed the
healing and immediately inspired the question, “Can this be the
son of David?” which is to say, “Is this the Messiah?”

However, the Pharisees, who were in fierce opposition to Jesus,

suggested an alternative interpretation of the event. They weren’t
ready to accede that Jesus had performed this miracle by virtue of
His being the Messiah; rather, they said He was borrowing power
from Satan himself. They said He did these things by the power of
the Beelzebul—“lord of the flies,” a title for Satan.

Notice that neither side denied the reality of the power that was
exhibited on that occasion. The question was the source of that
power and the identity of the person who was exercising that
power. Let’s go on with the text:

Knowing their thoughts, he said to them, “Every
kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and no
city or house divided against itself will stand. And if
Satan casts out Satan, he is divided against himself.
How then will his kingdom stand? And if I cast out
demons by Beelzebul, by whom do your sons cast
them out? Therefore they will be your judges. But if it
is by the Spirit of God that I cast out demons, then the
kingdom of God has come upon you. Or how can
someone enter a strong man’s house and plunder his
goods, unless he first binds the strong man? Then
 indeed he may plunder his house. Whoever is not
with me is against me, and whoever does not gather
with me scatters.” (vv. 25–30)

Jesus says, in effect, “This isn’t the power of Satan. This is the
power of God and, specifically, the power of God the Holy
Spirit.” This is the context in which the Holy Spirit is brought into
the discussion. Then Jesus gives his dreadful warning:

Therefore I tell you, every sin and blasphemy will be
forgiven people, but the blasphemy against the Spirit
will not be forgiven. And whoever speaks a word
against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but whoever
speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven,
either in this age or in the age to come. (vv. 31–32)

There’s a technical point to be made about calling this sin the

“unforgivable sin.” What do we mean by unforgivable? In the
very strictest meaning of the term, it means “unable to be
forgiven.” But, technically speaking, God has the ability to forgive
any sin if He so desires. So, when we call it the “unforgivable
sin,” we mean by that that it is a sin that will in fact not be
forgiven by God, not because God can’t do it but God won’t do it.
That’s the warning that Jesus makes to those who are charging
Him with doing His miracles by the power of Satan. He warns
them that there is a sin that God will not forgive either in this
world or in the world to come.

What is more difficult to understand is that Jesus also says that

people can sin against the Son of Man and be forgiven, but they
won’t be forgiven if they sin against the Holy Spirit. That’s hard
to conceptualize for the simple reason that we believe in the
Trinity—one God in three persons. There’s the Father, the Son,
and the Holy Spirit, and these three are one God; the “Son of
Man” refers to the second person of the Trinity. Why would
sinning against the second person of the Trinity be forgivable but a
particular sin against the third person not be forgivable?

There is a somewhat simple solution to this dilemma. Notice that

Jesus doesn’t say that it’s any sin against the Holy Spirit that is
unforgivable. We sin against the Holy Spirit all the time. In fact,
every sin that we commit as Christians is an offense to the Spirit
of holiness who dwells within us to work for our sanctification.
And if every sin against the Holy Spirit were unforgivable, none
of us could ever be forgiven. So, Jesus is being very narrow and
specific here about a particular kind of sin, one that He defines as
blasphemy against the Holy Spirit.

We have to be careful here, because He’s also not saying that any
form of blasphemy that has ever committed is unforgivable.
Again, if any blasphemy were unforgivable, we would never be
forgiven. Every time we use the Lord’s name in vain, it is an act
of blasphemy. But the Bible makes it abundantly clear that on His
cross, Christ reconciled blasphemers to God. Rather than making
a blanket statement about blasphemous words, Jesus is defining a
sin here in an extremely specific, particular, narrow sense. Not all
blasphemies are unforgivable, not all sins against the Holy Spirit
are unforgivable, and not all sins against the Son of Man are
unforgivable. So, what is specifically in view here?

This question has been answered in many ways over the course of
church history. Some have assumed that the unforgivable sin is
murder, because the Old Testament prescribes capital punishment
for that crime, but that answer misses the point—murder is not
blasphemy. In trying to understand the nature of this grievous sin,
we need to start with the fact that it’s identified as blasphemy, and
blasphemy has to do with words. Under normal circumstances,
blasphemy is something that comes from the mouth. It has to do
with what we say. We can see this in the verb Jesus uses: he
specifies whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit. Thus,
blasphemy is not a sinful act in general, or even the sinful act of
murder, but rather an action of the tongue.
In biblical ethics, there is a great concern for patterns of human
speech. We’ve seen already that in the first petition of the Lord’s
Prayer, Christ tells us to pray that the name of God may be
hallowed, that it may be considered sacred and treated with
reverence and with respect; anything less than that is
blasphemous. All blasphemy is a serious offense against God, and
the frequency with which it is committed in this world in no way
diminishes the severity of the wickedness of this act. But in this
particular case, we’re talking about a certain type of blasphemy
and not blasphemy in general.

Jesus is responding to the Pharisees, who have been engaged in

consistently fierce opposition to Him. They were the ones who
were most knowledgeable in the things of God, in the law of God,
in the theology of the Old Testament. If any group of people
should have been the first ones to recognize the identity of Christ
as the Son of Man and as the promised Messiah, it was the
Pharisees. But, instead, they were the ones who most fiercely
opposed Him.

At the same time, there is an acute awareness in the New

Testament of a profound ignorance that veils the eyes of the
Pharisees. We see this at the cross, and then we see it in 1
Corinthians. On the cross, when Jesus prays for the forgiveness of
those who had delivered Him for His execution, He says, “Father,
forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). And
in 1 Corinthians, Paul writes, “None of the rulers of this age
understood this, for if they had, they would not have crucified the
Lord of glory” (1:8).

Jesus’ response appears to be a warning to the Pharisees that they

are coming perilously close to a line past which there will be no
hope for them. Before that line is crossed, Jesus can pray for their
forgiveness on the basis of their ignorance, but past that point,
there is no forgiveness.

During His earthly life, Christ’s glory was veiled. But once He
was raised by the Holy Spirit and had made Himself known,
through the Holy Spirit, as the Son of God, then to say that Christ
performed His works through the power of Satan rather than
through the power of the Holy Spirit would be going too far.

Thus, someone commits the unforgivable sin when he knows for

certain through the illumination of the Spirit that Christ is the Son
of God, but he comes to the conclusion and makes the statement
verbally that Christ was demonic. The book of Hebrews
summarizes the issue for us:

For if we go on sinning deliberately after receiving
the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a
sacrifice for sins. … How much worse punishment,
do you think, will be deserved by the one who has
trampled underfoot the Son of God, and has profaned
the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified,
and has outraged the Spirit of grace? (Heb. 10:26, 29)

Therefore, the distinction between blaspheming the Holy Spirit

and blaspheming against Christ falls away once the person knows
who Jesus is.

We know that one of the most important works that is performed

by the Holy Spirit in the life of the Christian is to convict us of
sin. And the purpose of the Spirit’s work of convicting us of sin is
to lead us to repentance to the end that we may be forgiven and
restored to the fullness of fellowship with God.

To people who fear that they may have committed the

unforgivable sin, I often say that had they actually committed it, in
all likelihood they would not be disturbed by it. Their hearts
would have already become so recalcitrant and hardened that they
would not be struggling and wrestling with it. People who commit
such sin don’t care about it, and the very fact that these people are
wrestling with the fear that perhaps they have offended God in
this way gives significant evidence to the reality that they are not
in such a state.
A ny discussion of whether Christians can fall away and lose
their salvation will sooner or later turn to a treatment of Hebrews
6. Because this text is so central to discussions about perseverance,
we will take a close look at it. Hebrews 6:1–6 reads as follows:

Therefore let us leave the elementary doctrine of
Christ and go on to maturity, not laying again a
foundation of repentance from dead works and of faith
toward God, and of instruction about washings, the
laying on of hands, the resurrection of the dead, and
eternal judgment. And this we will do if God permits.
For it is impossible, in the case of those who have
once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly
gift, and have shared in the Holy Spirit, and have
tasted the goodness of the word of God and the
powers of the age to come, and then have fallen away,
to restore them again to repentance, since they are
crucifying once again the Son of God to their own
 harm and holding him up to contempt.

This text not only speaks of those who fall away, but it also gives
a vivid description of the state of these people before they fall
away. We’re also told in this text that it is impossible for these
people to be restored again to repentance. If there’s any passage in
the Bible that speaks about an unpardonable offense, then it is in
this strong admonition in Hebrews 6.

This is an extremely difficult passage to interpret. Part of the

difficulty has to do with the lack of background information,
including the identity of the author of the book of Hebrews, that
would help us understand this teaching in context. Sometimes
knowing the author of a certain work gives us clues to
understanding difficult passages that come from their pen.

More important, however, is knowing the occasion that provoked

this warning in the first place. We know that the author is
concerned about a very serious error that was enticing his readers,
but we’re not sure exactly what that error was. There have been
several alternatives suggested by biblical interpreters.

One of the most frequent suggestions is that the author is writing

to people who are facing radical persecution and who are in
danger of denying Christ in the face of such persecution. He says
that in their struggle against sin, his readers “have not yet resisted
to the point of shedding [their] blood” (12:4).

In the early church, one of the most rigorous disputes was called
the Novatianist Controversy, which arose in the wake of a round
of persecution under the Emperor Decius in AD 250. After the
persecution ended, church leaders faced the question of what to do
with the lapsi—those who had renounced the faith under duress,
but who now wanted to be readmitted to the church. Many
opposed their restoration, including the followers of Novatian, a
pretender to the bishopric at Rome. You can understand the
passion that people would have in a situation like that. If your
father, for example, had kept the faith and was burned at the stake
while the next-door neighbor denied the faith and escaped that
kind of torment, and then your neighbor wanted to come back into
the fellowship of the church after the persecution ended, it is
understandable that the martyr’s family would have a hard time
dealing with that person. The church at large, however, moved for
leniency and forgiveness and opted to restore the lapsi. So, one
possibility is that this passage is speaking of those who fall away
from the visible church in the face of persecution but then want to
associate with the visible church again in a time of tranquility.

Another frequent suggestion regarding these statements in

Hebrews pertains to one of the most virulent heresies to attack the
first-century church, the Judaizing heresy. Followers of this view
taught that the new covenant community had to continue the
practice of observing Old Testament practices, especially
circumcision. This heresy is dealt with again and again in the New
Testament, most emphatically in the book of Galatians. Some
imagine that this passage prohibits Christians from returning to
Jewish practices and makes the argument that to do so is to reject
the value of Christ’s death and resurrection.

Let’s look again at what is said in this passage about those who
cannot be restored. They are described in these terms: “those who
have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift,
and have shared in the Holy Spirit, and have tasted the goodness
of the word of God and the powers of the age to come” (vv. 4–5).
What kind of person can be described in these terms? On the
surface, it certainly sounds as if the author is describing a
Christian, a regenerate person, one who has been spiritually
reborn. If that’s the case, then the author is saying that it would be
impossible for a truly converted person to be restored again to
salvation if he has committed the sin that is in view here.

However, this language doesn’t necessarily have to be referring to

one who is authentically converted. It could refer to people who
have been closely involved in the life of the church but were never
converted in the first place. As was Old Testament Israel, the New
Testament church is what Augustine called a corpus permixtum, a
mixed body, containing within it what Jesus described as the
wheat and the tares (Matt. 13:24–30)—believers and unbelievers.
The tares are those who never were converted, even though they
are members of the covenant community.

The Bible describes three groups of people with respect to the

church, the visible covenant community. Outside the church, there
are unbelievers; inside the church, there are believers (those who
have been truly converted) and there are also some unbelievers.
Can we say of members of this third group—unbelievers inside
the church—that they have been enlightened? Yes, to the extent
that they have heard the gospel; they have heard the preaching of
the Word. They are not in some remote area where special
revelation has never penetrated. They’ve had the benefit of light
when it comes to hearing the Word of God. To say that someone
has been enlightened is not necessarily to say that they have been
converted.

What about the next description: they’ve tasted the heavenly gift?
It’s possible that the gift here is available not only to the
converted, but to the unconverted as well. For instance, the gift
may be something akin to the manna that God provided for the
people of Israel in the wilderness. The Israelites tasted of a
heavenly gift, yet some of them remained unconverted. Likewise,
looking at a New Testament practice, unbelievers in the church
still come to the Lord’s Table. They literally taste the heavenly
gift, yet they are still unconverted. A heavenly gift can be given to
both believers and unbelievers.

What about sharing in the Holy Spirit? That sounds a little bit
more difficult, because we think of sharing in the Holy Spirit as
being an experience that only comes to those who have been
regenerated and filled by the Holy Spirit. Such an interpretation
would be the prima facie reading of that text. But in a broader
sense, anyone who’s in the middle of the life of the church in a
loose sense partakes of the benefits of the power and the presence
of the Holy Spirit, because the Spirit dwells and works in the
church. Such a person has not necessarily received one specific
work of the Holy Spirit—namely, regeneration—but has tasted the
good Word of God.

Returning to the overall meaning of this passage, some understand

it as referring to people inside the church who are truly converted
but who apostatize and repudiate the gospel under persecution;
these people, then, cannot be restored. Others see it as referring to
the Judaizing heresy. An interpretation that understands the
passage as referring to the Judaizing heresy is more likely,
because there are a couple of problems with the first view. The
first problem is that Peter repudiated the gospel in one sense when
he sided with the Judaizers—in that his behavior denied the
sufficiency of the work of Christ for salvation (Gal. 2:11–14)—but
he was restored. He also denied Christ but was restored by Jesus
Himself. So, Peter is an example of one who was restored after
repudiating the gospel. This seems to illustrate that the passage
must mean something else.

Second, the author of Hebrews says “it is impossible … to restore

them again to repentance” (vv. 4, 6). The word “again” strongly
indicates that there had been at least one previous repentance. If
we understand repentance as referring in the New Testament to
something that is provoked by the work of the Holy Spirit within
us, not just outside of us, and if we are Reformed in our theology
and see repentance as a fruit of regeneration and not the cause of
regeneration, then we have the tightest difficulty here. Because
those who are Reformed in their theology have to say that if a
person who genuinely repents is regenerate, a true believer.

Of course, one could argue that there is such a thing as a false

repentance—the author of Hebrews mentions Esau as an example
(12:16–17). And one who has repented falsely once could do so
again. But in that case, the author would not speak of being
restored again unto repentance, because the first repentance was
false. It must be that the author is referring to true repentance, and
he is saying that it is impossible for a truly regenerate person, one
who has truly repented, to be restored again to repentance if he
falls away, because in his falling away he crucifies again the Son
of God and holds Him up to contempt. The author is saying that if
you do this, you’re finished. There is no possibility of restoration
if you fall away to this degree.

The argument here is a form of argumentation found throughout

the New Testament epistles called the argumentum ad absurdum.
This means that you take the premises of your opponent and show
how, if they are true, they eventually lead to a conclusion that is
absurd. Therefore, the premises are to be rejected. Paul uses this
argument in 1 Corinthians 15 when speaking of the resurrection of
Christ.

When it comes to the Judaizing heresy, the issue turns on the

keeping of the law. If the Christian who has embraced the gospel
of justification by faith alone now turns back to trying to justify
himself through the works of the law—circumcision, keeping the
festivals, observing the food laws, etc.—that person cannot be
saved, because he has crucified Christ anew.

But what does it mean to crucify Christ anew? Christ obviously

has only been crucified once. When He was crucified, Christ took
upon Himself the curse of the old covenant. When a person turns
back to keeping the law as the primary mode of relating to God,
he rejects the work of Christ, who took on the curse on behalf of
others. Having repudiated the work of Christ as a vicarious
sacrifice, he in fact condemns Christ as been justifiably killed on
the cross and makes himself complicit in the death of Christ. Such
a person takes the curse upon himself again and cannot be saved.

Thus, we see how the author of Hebrews uses the argumentum ad

absurdum to demonstrate the folly of his opponents’ position.
Since the Judaizers’ argument that the law should still be observed
leads to the repudiation of Christ’s work and the loss of salvation,
their argument should be rejected.

The author is likely using this argument hypothetically, to show

what would happen. But this could never actually happen in the
case of someone who has truly been converted. The author says in
v. 9, “Though we speak in this way, yet in your case, beloved, we
feel sure of better things—things that belong to salvation.” When
he says, “we speak in this way,” he is saying that he’s writing in a
manner of speaking, that is, for the sake of argument. He’s
showing how his opponents’ teachings would lead to someone’s
having no grounds for salvation. But, in the case of true believers,
he is certain that they will stand fast: “we feel sure of better things
—things that belong to salvation.” Therefore, rather than taking
away our confidence in perseverance, this passage in fact should
strengthen it.

The author of Hebrews wraps up this section with an exhortation:

“And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to
have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not
be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience
inherit the promises” (vv. 11–12). This is a call to diligence. The
author is reminding his readers that even though they have a hope
for the future that they can rest in, the hope that God has given
them of the certainty of their salvation should not lead them to
sluggishness in living out their faith. The doctrine of eternal
security should not lead us to take it easy and stop pressing into
the kingdom of God; it should, rather, lead us to live out our faith
with greater confidence and zeal.
T he concept of the perseverance of the saints can be easily
misunderstood. In our everyday speech, we talk about persevering
as something that we accomplish chiefly through our own
concerted efforts. And though the New Testament calls us to
persevere—it frequently uses the word endure, as in “the one who
endures to the end will be saved” (Matt. 24:13)—placing the
accent on persevering can cause us to miss the chief truth that
supports this concept.

The first theologian to offer an extensive explanation of the

doctrine of perseverance was Augustine of Hippo. The Latin
phrase that he used was donum perseverantiae, meaning “the gift
of perseverance.” By this phrase, Augustine meant that
perseverance in the life of the Christian is not an achievement
accomplished solely by human effort, but a gift. Augustine taught
that the only way anyone ever perseveres to the end after
beginning the Christian life is by virtue of the grace of God. Since
that time, perseverance has been understood as a gift of divine
grace.
That’s why, when discussing the perseverance of the saints, many
English-speaking theologians have found it preferable to speak of
the preservation of the saints—that is, God preserves His own. If I
look to myself, I can have no confidence in my ability to continue
on to glory once I begin my Christian walk because, as we have
noted, the Christian life is a struggle. Paul articulated this in terms
of spiritual warfare: the beginning of the Christian life involves
liberation from the bondage to the flesh, and we are indwelt by
God the Holy Spirit; once we become Christians, we embark upon
a whole new life in which we’re engaged in the pursuit of our
sanctification (Rom. 6:17–19). But that life, as Paul said, is
marked by an ongoing battle between the new man and the old
man, between the spiritual self and the sinful flesh that still retains
power in our lives (7:13–25). But now we have something added
as a gift, namely, the presence and power of the Holy Spirit.

Paul calls the Philippian believers to “work out your own salvation
with fear and trembling” (Phil. 2:12). In using this phrase, Paul
does not mean to say that we earn our salvation by means of our
works, but that our obedience (see his commendation of his
readers’ obedience earlier in the verse) plays a role in our
sanctification. In turn, our sanctification plays a role in our
persevering.

This is a clear call to labor, to toil, to put forth effort, and this
effort is not to be casual, light-hearted, or cavalier. The phrase
“fear and trembling” calls attention to the sobriety and earnestness
with which we are called to press into the kingdom of God.
Jonathan Edwards once said in a sermon that seeking the kingdom
of God should be the urgent, primary business of the Christian.
We are called to work as hard as we can to persevere.

Note what follows this exhortation: “For it is God who works in

you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (v. 13). Here
we see an example of the New Testament’s description of the
Christian struggle for perseverance as a synergistic work.
Synergism refers to a work that is done by two or more people. By
contrast, monergism means that only one person is exercising
power or effort.

These words have a checkered background within the history of

theology because Reformed scholars and pastors have insisted
over and over again that the first step in our salvation is a
monergistic work of God. That is, Reformed theologians maintain
that the Christian life begins at regeneration, which is the work of
the Holy Spirit in quickening us and raising us from a state
spiritual death to make us alive in Christ. This is nothing short of a
spiritual resurrection, and it is accomplished by God alone,
without any human effort. Reformed theologians thus use the
word monergism or monergistic to describe the process of
regeneration. As a result, many people who hear this tend to think
that a Reformed perspective teaches that the whole Christian life
is monergistic.

Have you ever heard the phrase “Let go and let God”? In one
sense, that’s a perfectly good phrase, because sometimes we rely
on ourselves so much that we fail to find rest in God. But the
phrase can become a kind of license for what we call “quietism.”
This is a view that says, “If God wants to change me and if God
wants me to grow spiritually, it’s His job to do it, and I’m only as
strong spiritually as God makes me.” A person who thinks this
way rewrites the apostolic admonition: “It is God who works in
me, both to will and to work—so I don’t have to work out my
salvation with fear and trembling.”

This is a distortion—the passage calls us to labor because God is

working in us and with us; thus, the whole process of persevering
is a synergistic action, not a monergistic one. I am called to work,
and God is working as well. In the final analysis, whether my
labor becomes fruitful depends on the donum perseverantiae, that
is, on the gift of perseverance on God’s part to preserve me to the
end.

Let’s look for a moment at Paul’s teaching in his letter to the

Philippians:

I thank my God in all my remembrance of you,
always in every prayer of mine for you all making my
prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the
gospel from the first day until now. And I am sure of
this, that he who began a good work in you will bring
it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. (Phil. 1:3–
6)

Here, Paul speaks of confidence, saying he is “sure of this.” What

is it that provokes this confidence in the Apostle Paul? He doesn’t
leave it unnamed. He goes on to say that “he who began a good
work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”
Therein lies our confidence and our security: the God who has
initiated a person’s salvation is not going to allow that redemptive
work to be an exercise in futility. God finishes what He starts in
His redemptive work in us by preserving those whom He redeems.
That’s where Paul gains his confidence, and I think that should
also be the primary basis for our confidence.

Paul fleshes out this basis for our confidence in his letter to the
Ephesians. He says, “In him you also, when you heard the word of
truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were
sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our
inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his
glory” (Eph. 1:13). The word translated “sealed” referred in the
ancient world to the practice of kings in using signet rings to
certify documents. The king had a particular insignia on his ring
and would press his ring into a wax seal, leaving a permanent
impression on the document, which would indicate the promise
and guarantee of the royal decree. Paul uses the word here to say
that God seals every Christian by the word of His promise so that
our confidence rests not in our own striving, but in the promise of
our future redemption, a promise made to us by God. He seals this
promise by giving us the Holy Spirit, who is the present, personal
indwelling certification of the fullness of redemption that God has
wrought within each believer.

Paul says the Holy Spirit “is the guarantee of our inheritance until
we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory” (v. 14). The
word translated “guarantee” is sometimes rendered “earnest.”
When a person is buying a home, in certain states he may be
required to put down a nonrefundable deposit that is called
“earnest money.” This deposit is the buyer’s guarantee that he is
going to make the final payment and finish the transaction; it
shows that he is “earnest” or “serious” about seeing the process
through. Paul uses this commercial language to say that the Holy
Spirit is the “earnest” or “guarantee” that we will finally and fully
be redeemed. And when the Spirit of truth makes a pledge for a
future promise, it is absolutely guaranteed. That promise cannot
be broken.

One of the most beloved verses in the Bible is Romans 8:28,

which gives us a precious promise from God: “And we know that
for those who love God all things work together for good, for
those who are called according to his purpose.” This is followed
by what is often called the “Golden Chain of salvation”: “For
those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to
the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among
many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called,
and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he
justified he also glorified” (vv. 29–30). This passage is an
elliptical statement; it assumes a word that is omitted but
understood in context. In this case, the assumed word is all. All
those who are predestined are called, not just some of them; all
who are called are justified; and all who are justified are glorified.
To be glorified means to enter into the full and final
consummation of our salvation. It is from promises such as these
that we gain our confidence in God’s gift of perseverance.
I used to teach the staff and volunteers of a prominent youth
ministry. In those days, these young evangelists would sometimes
use a peculiar expression, one not found in the pages of learned
tomes of systematic theology: “tube it.” The first time I heard it
was when one staff member came up and asked me, “Dr. Sproul,
why is it that so many of our kids tube it?” I didn’t know what he
meant—rafting trips down the river? But he explained that they
would often have young people who would be introduced to the
ministry, begin enthusiastically attending their programs, make a
profession of faith in Christ, and then, after a while, would “tube
it,” meaning their faith would go down the tubes.

People can stand up and make a profession of faith or walk down

an aisle at an evangelistic meeting for all kinds of reasons apart
from having been genuinely converted. We don’t have the ability
to read people’s hearts. We don’t know whether their professions
of faith are sincere and genuine. We work on the basis of the
outward manifestations and evidences, but we don’t know for sure
what’s going on inside their hearts.
Just look at Judas. He was part of Jesus’ inner circle and an
eyewitness of some of the most marvelous acts that were ever
performed by Jesus. He went to Jesus’ “seminary.” He sat in His
classes every day for three years. He was entrusted as the treasurer
of the organization. But Judas tubed it. Actually, to say that Judas
tubed it would be a monumental understatement. And yet, Jesus
speaks about Judas as one who was actually the son of perdition,
one who was really unconverted from the beginning (John 17:12).
Judas’ profession of faith was spurious. It was not authentic.

This is not just a problem for evangelistic or youth ministries. It’s

a problem in the life of the church as a whole. As a result, we need
to be careful about what we say—while we can affirm that
someone has made a profession of faith, we are unable to confirm
whether that person has been truly converted.

A related development is the emergence of an innovative doctrine

in popular Christianity: the idea of the “carnal Christian.”
Historically, this idea was linked to the theology of
dispensationalism. It erupted in the 1980s into the Lordship
Salvation Controversy, an intramural debate among
dispensationalists. One side insisted that it is faith alone—not faith
plus repentance—that saves; therefore, it is possible to receive
Christ as Savior but not as Lord. The other side argued that faith
and repentance are two sides of the same coin.

Both sides agreed that everyone who comes to faith should put
their trust in Christ as both Savior and Lord, and every believer
should bring forth the fruit of conversion and works of obedience
to Christ. The issue turned on whether it is possible to be saved
without embracing Christ as Lord and therefore exhibiting works
of obedience. The one who is saved without embracing Christ as
Lord is one we might call a “carnal Christian.”

The controversy resulted in a distinction among different types of

Christians. These types are illustrated in a popular evangelistic
tract used for many years by Cru (formerly Campus Crusade for
Christ). The three distinct types are defined graphically in terms of
three circles displayed in a row, with each circle representing a
particular type of person. At the center of each circle is a
silhouette of a chair, which represents the throne of a person’s life,
the seat of authority.

In the first circle, to the far left, on the chair is the letter S, which
stands for “self.” This signifies the egocentricity of the
unconverted person. This is the person who has not received
Christ, who has not submitted to Christ in any way. And outside
the circle is the figure of the cross, which means that in this
person’s life, self—what we would call “the flesh”—dominates.
The fallen human nature is in control, and Christ is not in that
person’s life.

The third circle, to the far right, has Christ, the cross, on the
throne. This is the Spirit-filled life. Jesus Christ is the central
authority in the life of this person. This represents the mature
Christian who has grown up to embrace Christ not only as Savior
but also as Lord.

The middle circle portrays a strange little picture. There is the

chair in the middle, with the S for “self,” but below the chair is the
cross. This image represents a person who has Christ in his life,
but He has not ascended to the throne. The self is still on the
throne; the flesh still rules. Hence, this person is described as the
carnal Christian. The carnal Christian is a person who is a
Christian but whose Christian life is still dominated by carnality.

Where does this idea come from biblically? The biblical

justification for this is that the New Testament does speak about
carnal Christians. In 1 Corinthians 3, the Apostle Paul is rebuking
the Corinthian Christians, and he says:

But I, brothers, could not address you as spiritual
people, but as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ.
 I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not
ready for it. And even now you are not yet ready, for
you are still of the flesh. For while there is jealousy
and strife among you, are you not of the flesh and
behaving only in a human way? For when one says, “I
follow Paul,” and another, “I follow Apollos,” are
you not being merely human? (1 Cor. 3:1–4)

Paul is clearly talking about people whom he regards as believers.

He calls them “brothers,” and yet he also describes them as being
“of the flesh,” that is, carnal. So, what’s wrong with the idea of
talking about “carnal Christians”? Not only does Paul describe the
Corinthian believers as carnal in this case, but he also refers to
himself as “of the flesh” in Romans 7 when he is talking about his
own struggles in sanctification: “I am of the flesh, sold under sin”
(v. 14). All of this seems to suggest that “carnal Christian” might
be a useful, and biblically sound, way of talking about a certain
kind of Christian.

The descriptor “carnal” or “fleshly” also recurs in the New

Testament. Earlier, we saw that Paul speaks of the struggle of the
Christian life as warfare between the flesh and the spirit. And we
also know that that same metaphor of flesh is used repeatedly in
the New Testament to describe the condition of the unbeliever.
The unbeliever is pure flesh. That’s why Jesus says you have to be
born again in order to see the kingdom of God, because what is
born of the flesh is flesh, and we are by nature fleshly or fallen.
The unregenerate person is not engaged in warfare between the
spirit in the flesh; he is totally in the flesh, totally carnal.

Based on these distinctions, we might assume that in the image

from the booklet, the idea is not that the person is still purely in
the flesh, because Christ is in his life. Rather, it is meant to
communicate that there are three kinds of people: unbelievers,
baby believers, and mature believers. That’s a perfectly legitimate
distinction, because that’s what Paul is doing in 1 Corinthians 3
when he calls the Corinthian Christians “of the flesh.” He’s calling
them “of the flesh” because they are still babies and because their
behavior is showing more of the ongoing manifestation of the
flesh than of the maturity that comes from the fruit of the Spirit.

But the idea in the New Testament is that no person in this life is
totally spiritual and no Christian in this world is totally carnal. So
when we speak of carnal Christians, if by that term we mean baby
Christians, everything is well and good. But if we mean people
who have received Christ as their Savior but not as their Lord,
where the self still dominates and rules the life, who are we
describing? We’re describing the unconverted person, the person
who’s in the church and around the fellowship of Christ, the
person who is professing Jesus Christ, but is really not a Christian
at all. The idea of a carnal Christian in the sense of one who is
totally carnal is an oxymoron. There is no totally carnal Christian,
just as there is no totally spiritual Christian.

I wish I could point to an easy way to move from infancy in the

faith to adulthood. The Apostle Paul speaks of our need to be
nourished and nurtured. He also uses the image of babies as
requiring a milk diet because they aren’t yet ready to eat solid
food.

It takes time to reach spiritual maturity. But what’s scary is when

we hear of people who have been in the faith for ten years or
fifteen years and they’re still drinking milk. That was what was
distressing the Apostle here in his letter to the Corinthians. The
time for their infancy was long past, and he was calling them now
to a solid diet of the things of God, to chewing on the meat of the
gospel, which is part of the whole life of persevering in Christ.
M any of us have taken comfort in the intercessory prayer of a
friend or a pastor. How much more comfort, then, can we
experience from the full assurance that Jesus is praying for us?
Have you ever had people ask you, “Pray for me,” and you say,
“Sure, I’ll pray for you,” and then you forget? I know that in my
lifetime, I have told people that I would pray for them and I forget.
If I remember at some point later, I will stop and pray, but often
it’s only out of guilt—so that if that person asks whether I prayed,
I can tell them that I did.

Intercessory prayer is comforting, but we humans can’t always be

relied on to follow through with our promises to pray. This is not
so with Christ. The New Testament speaks of Him as our Great
High Priest. As our Great High Priest, He has offered up the
perfect sacrifice—Himself—but His priestly work did not end on
the cross. Every day, in the presence of the Father, Christ
intercedes for His people (Heb. 7:25). “The prayer of a righteous
person has great power as it is working,” James tells us (5:16), but
no prayer has the same power as the prayers of Christ.
The intercession of our Great High Priest is the foundation for our
confidence when it comes to our perseverance. It also helps us
make sense of the accounts of Peter and Judas, two of Jesus’
disciples who experienced a serious fall. One disciple’s fall away
from Christ is seen as a final and full work of apostasy, whereas
the other disciple’s fall is not final and full because he is restored.
And we see that their crime against Christ was very similar. Judas
betrayed Jesus. And that same night, Peter denied Christ.

These two men who had been disciples with Jesus during his
earthly ministry committed treason against Him in his darkest
hour. And there are further similarities in these two examples in
that Jesus predicted both Peter’s and Judas’ diabolical acts. But we
recall that when Jesus said, “One of you will betray me,” the
disciples said among themselves, “Who is it, Lord? Is it I?” When
Judas asked, “Is it I, Rabbi?” Jesus said to him, “You have said
so” (Matt. 26:25). Jesus’ final words to Judas were “What you are
going to do, do quickly” (John 13:27). And He dismissed him
from their presence.

When Jesus prophesied that Peter would deny him, Peter protested
profusely. “Though they all fall away because of you, I will never
fall away,” he said (Matt. 26:33). This brings to mind Paul’s
admonition, “Let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest
he fall” (1 Cor. 10:12), because Jesus then turned to Simon and
said to him in loving terms, “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan
demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat” (Luke
22:31).

Sifting wheat is not a laborious task that only the strong can
perform. It may take time and it may be tedious, but it’s not labor
intensive. In using this metaphor, Jesus is cautioning Simon not to
rely on his own strength, because it would be an easy thing for
Satan to entice him to fall. Satan is stronger than Peter, and would
have no trouble overcoming whatever strength Peter thought he
had.
Notice, however, that Jesus does not say to Peter, “What you are
going to do, do quickly.” Our Lord’s words to Simon Peter were
significantly different from what He said to Judas. He said, “I
have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you
have turned again, strengthen your brothers” (Luke 22:32).

Notice what Jesus doesn’t say. He doesn’t simply hope that Peter
will be able to resist Satan, or that he will return, or that he will be
able to strengthen the brothers. He expresses certainty that Peter
will do these things. There was no doubt in Jesus’ mind not only
that Peter would fall, and fall abysmally, but also that Peter would
be restored. Indeed, history testifies that Peter, in spite of this
radical and serious fall, nevertheless endured to the end. He
repented, he was forgiven, he was restored, and he endured to the
end.

The rest of the teaching of the New Testament hints at a causal

connection between the words “I have prayed for you” and “when
you turn.” Jesus is our Great High Priest who, upon His ascension,
sat down at the right hand of God. There, He lives to make
intercession for His people.

Our greatest consolation when it comes to our eternal security

comes from the full assurance of the present work of Christ on our
behalf. When Jesus died on the cross, He cried out, “It is finished”
(John 19:30). His atoning death purchased redemption for His
people, but Christ’s redemptive work didn’t end on the cross.
After His death, He was raised for our justification. Then He
ascended into heaven, where He sat down at the right hand of
God. There He rules as the King of kings and the Lord of lords,
governing the universe and ruling over His church. All this comes
under the heading of the finished work of Christ.

We get a glimpse of Christ’s intercession for us in the Upper

Room Discourse in John 13–17, and especially the High Priestly
Prayer in chapter 17. In this discourse, Jesus instructs and
comforts His disciples. As they are approaching their darkest hour,
Jesus offers security to combat their anxiety, saying:

Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God;
believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many
rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I
go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare
a place for you, I will come again and will take you to
myself, that where I am you may be also. (John 14:1–
3)

When the Lord says He will go and prepare a place for the
disciples, He’s talking about something that He is going to do not
in that very moment, but at a certain point in the future. Instead of
talking to them about the cross, He looks beyond it, to His
ascension, where He would enter into the heavenly tabernacle in
order to prepare a place for His people. And later, He will return
again to gather His people. The New Testament often speaks of
the consummation of the redemption of the bride of Christ, the
true people of God, in terms of a final glorious reunion between
Christ and His people.

Later on in this same discourse, we read Christ’s High Priestly

Prayer:

When Jesus had spoken these words, he lifted up his
eyes to heaven, and said, “Father, the hour has come;
glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you, since
you have given him authority over all flesh, to give
eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this
is eternal life, that they know you the only true God,
and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. I glorified you
on earth, having accomplished the work that you gave
me to do. And now, Father, glorify me in your own
presence with the glory that I had with you before the
world existed.
 I have manifested your name to the people whom
you gave me out of the world. Yours they were, and
you gave them to me, and they have kept your word.
Now they know that everything that you have given
me is from you. For I have given them the words that
you gave me, and they have received them and have
come to know in truth that I came from you; and they
have believed that you sent me. I am praying for
them. I am not praying for the world but for those
whom you have given me, for they are yours. All
mine are yours, and yours are mine, and I am
glorified in them. And I am no longer in the world,
but they are in the world, and I am coming to you.
Holy Father, keep them in your name, which you have
given me, that they may be one, even as we are one.
While I was with them, I kept them in your name,
which you have given me. I have guarded them, and
not one of them has been lost except the son of
destruction, that the Scripture might be fulfilled.… I
do not ask for these only, but also for those who will
believe in me through their word, that they may all be
one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that
they also may be in us, so that the world may believe
that you have sent me. (John 17:1–12, 20–21)

Jesus begins by recalling the covenant within the Godhead itself

to save some, the elect, from among the mass of humanity. He
asks that the Father would glorify Him upon the completion of His
work. He then goes on to pray for the disciples, and not for the
disciples only, but also for “those who will believe in me through
their word” (v. 20), which includes us.

Jesus acknowledges that one was lost, but as the Scripture

elsewhere declares, it was the one who was the son of perdition
from the beginning. Judas’ fall was final. He was a true apostate,
one who made a profession of faith though he was never really
converted. He was the son of perdition from the beginning. Peter,
on the other hand, was not lost. He turned again and was restored.
Christ’s intercessory prayers upheld him.

The whole point of Jesus’ prayer is that none whom the Father has
given to the Son are lost. No one, He said, can snatch them out of
His hand (John 10:28). We persevere because we are preserved,
and we are preserved because of the intercession of our Great
High Priest. This is our greatest consolation and our greatest
source of confidence that we will persevere in the Christian life.
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 About The Author
Dr. R.C. Sproul is the founder and chairman of Ligonier
Ministries, an international Christian discipleship organization
located near Orlando, Fla. He also serves as copastor at Saint
Andrew’s Chapel in Sanford, Fla., as chancellor of Reformation
Bible College, and as executive editor of Tabletalk magazine. His
teaching can be heard around the world on the daily radio program
Renewing Your Mind.

During his distinguished academic career, Dr. Sproul helped train

men for the ministry as a professor at several theological
seminaries.

He is author of more than ninety books, including The Holiness of

God, Chosen by God, The Invisible Hand, Faith Alone,
Everyone’s a Theologian, Truths We Confess, The Truth of the
Cross, and The Prayer of the Lord. He also served as general
editor of the Reformation Study Bible and has written several
children’s books, including The Donkey Who Carried a King. Dr.
Sproul and his wife, Vesta, make their home in Sanford, Fla.