Discovering Grace: How Law and Gospel Changed My Life

What my pastor proclaimed after his final prayer was not an assured blessing that I could enter into the rest of my week under the covenant of grace with the surety that because of Christ’s work I stand forgiven, or that I could respond to the gospel with gratitude in my actions.1

He rather made an abrupt ending to a message usually about doing more works in our Christian lives. I didn’t think about any of this at the time of course, I just wanted my candy.

This scene is a mere glimpse of the beginnings of my journey to becoming Reformed. It began in an Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) church. The church also had a Christian school attached to it as a ministry, so I was surrounded by ideas of Christ as Savior but also of strict obedience, a push to dedicate my life to ministry, and being on fire for God.

I didn’t know it then, but the leaders of the church and school were blending the law with the gospel, leaving me confused and in fear of not being able to measure up to the demands of obedience and service.

I think it’s worth pulling at this thread of fear for a moment because as you read on, you’ll see the freedom from it.

For most of my life, I have struggled with the fear of being judged by others for my performance, obedience, or service. Even fear that my relationship with God could be stripped away.

What has brought relief to my fears is the secure understanding of my status before God, Christ’s active and passive obedience on my behalf, and my reliance on his work alone. Becoming Reformed involved a theological shift, but because it has been part of a release of fear, the journey has been deeply personal.

The Young Restless and Reformed

My education from kindergarten through college was all within an IFB context. Oddly enough though, while attending a Bible College in the Midwest, I started to get introduced to what is commonly referred to as the “Young, Restless and Reformed” theologians.

Friends introduced me to John MacArthur, John Piper, and later to Tim Keller. There was even one “rogue” professor that believed and taught election, which caused a lot of theological discussion among IFB students.

Late into the Spring semester of my Junior year of college, I applied and was accepted to work at small Christian camp in the Midwest, which set the trajectory for my young adult life. The camp centered around a method of discipleship with a trickle down approach. The leadership would disciple the staff, then the staff would disciple the campers.

This was the first time I had been pushed to study the Word deeply, and come face to face with sin that was plaguing me. This attention to Christian living was good for me as a young adult.

There were many mentors that patiently taught me about the Lord’s grace. At the same time, because of the lack of distinction of the law and the gospel again, I became introspective, still dealing with fear, and worried about how well I was performing as a Christian.

The leader of discipleship at the camp also had a ministry that he ran during the rest of the year. He asked me to join his team as a media coordinator and I accepted. We ministered all over the U.S., primarily to IFB churches, but as the years went on, all of us on the team became less and less tied to the IFB.

We dealt with a palpable legalism while we worked with these churches, but as a team we were reading books that incorporated a Biblical view of grace. I was exiting out of the IFB, but what exactly was I now? I was young. I was restless. But I was not quite reformed.

After four years with this ministry, a church planting network was formed through us and a few other churches, and we headed West to Utah with the hopes of evangelizing the Latter-day Saints. Church planting was more difficult than I thought it would be, but also rewarding.

Although we were far from our IFB upbringing, there was still an emphasis on intense service and proving yourself to others that left me defeated. I spent about nine years in Utah and thought I would stay there forever. But then I met a man named Todd.

The Shift Begins

One of the first questions Todd and I asked each other was, “What kind of church do you attend?” We met online and lived about 1,800 miles from each other, so we got to some important questions upfront. Todd said, “A Reformed church.” I had to ask myself if my church was also Reformed.

One of our recent church book studies had been on Why the Reformation Still Matters by Michael Reeves, and my friends were planning a Reformation party for late October, so it seemed as though we were also Reformed!

The first time we met, Todd was grilled by my church family. One friend faced the elephant in the room and asked, “So tell me about infant baptism.” I can’t recall exactly what Todd said, but I believe he mentioned Covenant Theology. Thankfully, neither my pastors nor my parents expressed any concerns about the prospect of me becoming Presbyterian, especially in the OPC.

As we progressed in our relationship, I learned that being Reformed was much richer than simply being a Calvinist. There was a paradigm shift in how they saw the entire Bible. I had much more to learn. I was introduced to Covenant Theology by Todd and his elders, and I began to devour books and podcast interviews dealing with Reformed theology.2

After we were married, I experienced somewhat of a deconstruction of broad Evangelical theology. Thankfully, in God’s kindness, He reconstructed a historical, Reformed view of theology. I started noticing a gospel peace in Sunday sermons and Sunday school lessons. There was no command to simply live better, but a reminder that we have a great Savior who lived for us.

At our time of confession in worship, there was an assurance of pardon from the Scriptures. The first time I heard a pastor preach from Ephesians 4, his tone was kind and his reminder to us was not to live the new life by trying harder, but to rely on Christ as we respond in gratitude to his work for us. The gospel was always present in sermons, not as a bow tie at the very end, but as an integral part.

It got better after that. I finally understood the meaning of passages like Mark 19 with the rich young ruler. It’s a law and gospel distinction. The rich young ruler did not simply miss out because he didn’t make Christ the Lord over his finances, although his love of riches was part of his sin. Jesus was making a point that eternal life requires perfection and the young man did not meet those requirements. But Christ did.

The explanation of the law and the gospel was freeing. I began to understand the depth of my sin more and more. It’s far worse than I grew up understanding. Heidelberg Catechism answer 5 says “I am inclined by nature to hate God and my neighbor.”3 But my thankfulness to God for such deliverance grew in my heart.

As question 59 asks, “But how does it help you now that you believe all this? That I am righteous in Christ before God and an heir to life everlasting.”4 This rest in Christ’s work has helped to refine my fearful, introspective nature. Becoming Reformed has truly been a freeing balm to my soul.

A year ago, Todd and I visited Utah for a wedding, and after a Sunday sermon at my previous church, I noticed the benediction was missing. Instead, the pastor said, “Go, be the church.” I’m thankful that every week my pastor does not give me a command to leave on, but reminds me of Christ’s work and God’s glory by blessing us with the end of Jude:

“Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen.”5