The Christian faith contains a core set of beliefs, a foundation from which all other Christian beliefs emerge. This core is both necessary and sufficient for defining and declaring the Christian story. Despite the number of times it is told, there is a beauty and deep attraction to this story that enlightens the open mind and endears the supple heart.
Here I briefly expand on themes that capture those central truths of what Christians know as the gospel message. As with most treatments of a topic, there will be nuanced differences or even ideas omitted that some may expect to see. Nevertheless, it is my sincere hope and prayer that readers find this rendering palatable and are drawn to embrace that great and glorious narrative known as the gospel message.
While the word “gospel” means “good news”, it really is a mixture of good and bad news. Let me explain.
The Problem of Sin, the Role of Faith, and the Importance of Repentance
We start at the beginning in the book of beginnings known as Genesis. The early chapters reveal three catastrophic consequences that emerge from human resistance to God’s ideal. This resistance, also known as the problem of sin, introduces disorder into God’s created order of the universe and it affects everything and everyone.
First, the basis for truth is lost. Whereas God said that Adam and Eve would die if they ate from the tree (Gen. 2:17), the serpent said, “You will not die” (Gen. 3:4). When we doubt God’s integrity and instead trust our own ability to discern truth, or rely on other sources that contradict what God has said, then intellectual relativism becomes the standard for truth.
Second, the foundation for morality is eroded. In eating the fruit, Adam and Eve did not simply exercise their freedom to choose among neutral options but decided they would determine what is morally right instead of abiding in God’s clear counsel (see Gen. 3:6). Turning in on our own pleasures to determine what is good for us results in moral relativism as the norm.
Third, the true nature of our humanity is turned on its head. Rather than accepting that we are beings made in the image of our Creator, which includes embracing our dependency as a gift from God, we become self-made creations, asserting a persistent independence and autonomy. When Adam and Eve succumbed to the temptation to be “like God” (Gen. 3:5), their sense of identity became fluid rather than fixed. Denying our humanity as created by God, we find ourselves living with a relentless cognitive dissonance that produces an incurable existential relativism.
Since all of us are children of Adam — “single-sourced” as it were — we derive our nature from our parentage and are sinners by nature and by choice. Consequently, alienation is the inevitable outcome of our sin. We are separated from God, fragmented within, and disconnected from others. Because of the ubiquitous presence of sin, the same questions continually haunt us all: “What is truth? What is right? Who am I?”.
As important as it is to acknowledge our common human condition, it’s critical we understand our purpose in life never changes. Because we are created in God’s image, we are made to reflect God’s glory, even though sin disrupts that goal (Rom 3:23). As Isaiah says, “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have all turned to our own way” (Is 53:6). Ironically, in an effort to be radically independent from God, we end up as slaves to all that is opposed to God.
Part of the great good news is that our ability to reflect God’s glory is restored when God’s unconditional love compels us to have faith in God’s Son. This is our charter in life, our raison d’être. As God’s image bearer, we are gifted with a divine opportunity; a royal commission to represent God’s glory.
Most importantly, despite the problem of sin and its sweeping fallout, God’s love for us is unrelenting. Though “we were dead in our trespasses and sins … God who is rich in mercy” (Eph 2), “shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). You see, “in this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 Jn 4:10).
When we accept our plight as sinners and admit our moral indebtedness to God, then repentance is the most natural response. Repentance is not just a change of mind; it’s a change of masters; a complete reorientation heading in a completely new direction. While the historical fact of our past sin remains, the moral fact of sin’s stain is erased because of our repentance and God’s forgiveness. Importantly, repentance not only looks backward at our failures, but forward to our potential. Here’s how 6th–7th century Christian monk John Climacus puts it:
To repent is not to look downwards at my own shortcomings, but upwards at God’s love, it is not to look backwards with self-reproach but forward with trustfulness, it is to see not what I have failed to be, but what by the grace of Christ I might yet become.
Why is repentance important? Because it unleashes forgiveness, which is instrumental to our reconciliation with God. When we are forgiven the gap of estrangement is closed between God, self, and others. Forgiveness opens the doorway to our union with God, and imparts to us a genuine sense of shalom, completion, well-being, and peace! It is through forgiveness that we rediscover our sense of identity and our sense of place as we learn what it means to be temples of the living God; sanctuaries from which God’s glory emerges and shines brightly through the Holy Spirit living in us. The net remains of our lives are spent realizing this glorious reality (for more on forgiveness, see my “Forgiveness: What It Is and Why It Matters“).
The gospel story shifts the focus, not on what Jesus did for me, but on who Jesus is (see further The Gospel Precisely, Matthew Bates). Put differently, the benefits of the gospel are not the reasons for the gospel. Turning our gaze on the life of Jesus we learn he not only claims to be the truth but is truth incarnate. Jesus shows us not only an example of goodness to follow but is goodness through and through. Jesus is the quintessential human, the new Adam, and our living hope.
Many today “think about ‘going to heaven’ or ‘going to hell’ as the framework for the gospel but the Bible story is not about us going somewhere but the Creator God coming to live with us” (N. T. Wright). The primary emphasis of the gospel message is not on the future but on the present; it’s about a relationship with Jesus as my king and me as his subject serving him now, in my present life.
The first coming of Jesus is really the coming of God as king to restore our divine purpose as his royal subjects who reflect his glory back into the world. Interestingly, in reading Mark’s passion narrative (the account of his crucifixion) we find that “king” is used of Jesus six times (Mk 15:2, 9, 12, 18, 26, 32). The mocking placard over the crucified Christ that read “King of the Jews” was intended by Rome as a general deterrent to eliminate threats to its political power and authority. However, it is in fact stating an important truth: God’s kingdom comes with power; but a power through death, humility, surrender, and sacrifice. The profound irony is that Jesus’s crucifixion is actually the power of God on full display!
The gospel story is the story of God; it is God’s means of proclaiming his identity to all the world. And, when we embrace who God is by looking to Jesus in faith, ironically we discover our true identity as God’s image bearers whose royal privilege it is to reflect God’s glory here on earth right now, and into eternity. Rather than being banished from God’s presence in a garden, we are embraced by God’s presence through his Spirit, wherever we find ourselves. “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matt 28:20). By God’s Spirit the presence of Jesus is extended not only to the courts of heaven, but also deep into the chambers of our heart, and out to the world as his representatives (see John 14:16-17).
What happens to us and in us when we become believers? To answer I will highlight two different but related changes that occur. One change is internal and profoundly personal, whereas the other change is external and largely social.
Our Union with Christ and Our Belonging to One Another
In looking to Christ’s death as an atonement for our sins and to his resurrection and ascension as the promise of new creation, something genuinely changes within us. The Bible calls this regeneration, which is a unique work of the Holy Spirit. The change is so large and so sweeping that it’s likened to a new birth. Value systems are wholly renovated, not just modified. Old impulses and habits are gradually yet certainly replaced with new ones. Because a death has taken place of our old nature we are given a new nature that radically and truly changes us from the inside out.
Consider an illustration from chemistry: a mixture consists of two or more elements, each of which can be distinguished and separated from the other when combined in the same container; the elements are not chemically bound to one another. A compound, on the other hand, is the combination of two or more elements that are chemically bound to each other such that they cannot be extracted individually. A new substance altogether obtains from the compound.
Similarly, when the Spirit of Christ enters our lives, we are united with Christ and we become a new creation altogether (Rom 8:9; 2 Cor 5:17). We are changed substantially from the inside out. We do not merely add a religious element to our lives, as in a mixture. When, through faith in Christ, God’s Spirit unites with ours, we become a new person; a compound as it were. This union forms one new substance (Gal 2:20). Though each part remains distinct (God’s Spirit and ours), the predominating expression for those born from above is “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Col 1:27). We’re set on a new course to be formed into the new Adam who is Christ, the image of God. This is what it means to be a Christian.
Upon turning to Christ in repentant faith and being united to Christ by his Spirit, we lean into our forgiven status as God’s renewed image bearers. We become part of a larger story where God is the main character and not simply a footnote to our own narrative. We move from fragmented lives to integrated lives, resting in the constancy of God’s love shown to us in Christ. This reality becomes the space where we are embraced and from which we feel not only safe but secure in relationship with God, self, and others.
But there’s more. Not only are we united with Christ, we belong to one another. In our union with Christ, we are bound not only to Christ, but to a new family of believers across all time, what Hebrews calls a “great cloud of witnesses” (Heb 12:1). This bond is stronger than any biological or psychological connection we could have in this life. Scripture calls this new family, the “Church.”
“What is the Church?” For many (most?) the term church is just an aggregate of bodies, bucks, and buildings; an institutionalized organization with paid professionals and a tax-exempt status. However, church is not simply some place we go or some thing we do on a specified day of the week. In fact, the New Testament shows that the term “church” refers to “the people of God,” whether locally or globally expressed. Metaphors referring to church include “body” (Col 1:18), “temple” (Eph 2:20-21), “virgin” (2 Cor 11:2), “bride” (Rev 21:9), “people” (Tit 2:14), “flock” (1 Pt 5:2-4), “household” (Eph 2:19), “new humanity” (Eph 2:15), “chosen people, holy nation, royal priesthood” (1 Pt 2:9), and even “Israel of God” (Gal 6:16). Given this usage, I doubt anyone in the first century would care to ask “Where do you go to church?” Because the term “church” is not just a place to go, it’s an identity to hold. It’s not merely an event to attend, but a family to embrace. When we come to Christ in faith, we are grafted into the Body of Christ composed of “saints from every tribe and language and people and nation; [who are] a kingdom [of] priests [and who will one day] reign on earth.” (Rev 5)!
Significantly, no image for the church occurs more often in the New Testament than the metaphor of family. In fact, “the early church viewed family as their dominant relational identifier, and family is how Jesus refers to his disciples—not just the twelve, but all of them (and us) (Matt 23:8). The New Testament writers pick up on this metaphor and adopt it in their own teachings … Family is primary, but in that family, we are all equal brothers and sisters” (see Matt McKirland’s post). This is why marriage is used so often to portray Christ (who is Bridegroom) and the Church (who is bride).
Finally, we could say that faith sums our experience of coming to Christ. Just as the problem of sin affects everyone (Rom 3:23), so also is faith the solution for everyone. As a necessary and sufficient condition for being reconciled to God (Eph 2:8-9), faith in Christ removes the breach once created by sin and settles the matter once and for all. The pressure of performance, the arrogance that often arises from privilege, the fear of judgment, and the dehumanizing effect of guilt and shame are all crushed under the cross of Christ. Forgiveness is available to anyone and to everyone without distinction at the cross of Christ. It is by faith alone that we are made right with God, united with Christ, and joined to one another as family for eternity. But make no mistake. Faith is not passive. Faith (pistis, in Greek) is an action to be performed and not merely a mental acknowledgment of certain facts (James 2:19 and my explanation here). We might even say that faith is an ongoing pledge of allegiance to Christ as King (see Matthew Bates’s Beyond the Salvation Wars for a full and detailed treatment).
This is the gospel message as I understand. It is the ground on which the entire foundation is laid and the entire Christian story is told. Everyone who has embraced Jesus as Lord and Savior affirms these core beliefs.
I want to close by rehearsing an insightful narrative from Dr. Gay Hubbard that beautifully sums the message of Christianity. I had the privilege of hearing her present a paper titled, “God Has a Story, Too” at Denver Seminary in 1994. I’ve never forgotten her concluding remarks.
It is part of the great good news of our Christian faith that God is passionately interested in making everything all right. But God has a plan for doing that, and that is a part of His story, not just of ours.
God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—decided in the limitless reaches of eternity to make a world. The world they made was beautiful and good. But a great and terrible tragedy occurred. God’s creatures, made in His image, chose to disobey Him, and a terrible chasm was established between God and His own. But God had a plan. God the Son came down to us and was human with us—God’s lost and fallen creatures—and in love He laid down His life for us. When He returned to heaven, He left an empty tomb, the promise of the Spirit, and, through John, a glimpse into the last chapter of God’s story. In that last chapter, the bent and broken things are all made new, and evil is utterly destroyed. At the end in God’s story there is no more pain, no more tears, and no darkness—there is only light—the indescribable undimmed timeless light of God’s presence with us in a world in which the old and terrible things have passed away (Revelation 21:1–5).
God is not unreasonable nor is He uncaring. But He is unwilling to abandon His great story in order to function simply as a divine footnote in our own. Yet, at the same time, God is committed to our story too. When we become willing through relationship with Him to incorporate our story into His, God in turn enters into our story in a new way that empowers us to accept and to transcend the brokenness of ourselves and of our world. Our story takes on both personal meaning and eternal significance when we become part of God’s story, too.