Receiving Grace through Gospel Disciplines
From a young age, I’ve been able to explain the gospel message. It’s one of the many blessings I received growing up in a home where my parents loved Jesus. I knew that there was a good God who’d created the world and that I’d sinned against him—causing a break in our relationship that was irreparable without his intervention. It seemed obvious that I should trust that through the grace and love of God, Jesus came to lay down his life for my sin so that this relationship would be restored, and I could know God again. And to top it all off—by believing this, I was now able to spend eternity in heaven with him! That’s all good news. Sure, it’s a faint sketch of the glorious details of the gospel, but even then—it’s the best news any of us can ever hear.
That’s why I was left dazed and confused when at sixteen, the wheels began to fall off my version of faith. I had the right beliefs—just ask me and I could tell you them—but something was missing. It took me a few years and plenty of bumps along the road, but after some lengthy, even painful reflection, I was able to articulate the problem: I knew how to have a relationship with God, but I didn’t have one.
Grace Is Not a One Time Event
The reality was I’d been taught to articulate the gospel of grace, yet I wasn’t regularly receiving and enjoying this amazing grace. There was no environment by which I engaged in the personal relationship I claimed to have. I knew how to read and understand the Bible, but I didn’t do it often. I prayed when life was difficult, but I didn’t have much of a prayer life. I went to church out of routine, but not to be fed or to truly worship God. In simple terms: I had no spiritual disciplines—therefore, no real spiritual life. Functionally, I was living as though grace were a one-time event, poured out at the cross and then into my life when I first believed, rather than seeing it as a rich reservoir from which I needed to drink daily.
“I knew how to read and understand the Bible, but I didn’t do it often. I prayed when life was difficult, but I didn’t have much of a prayer life.”
Sadly, my experience is not an isolated one. I’ve seen this story replicated countless times in my work as a pastor—in teenagers, young adults, and seasoned Christians. I meet with people regularly who know “the gospel” but have no active relationship with the Lord of that gospel. I’m sure if you ponder it for a moment, you can recall similar seasons of time in your own life. Or, you’ve spoken with people who have had the same experience.
However, there’s no point in dwelling solely on the problem. We need to ask a question of vital importance: How does the gospel itself provide a corrective for the tendency to know about God over knowing him?
Gospel Disciplines
Woven into the fabric of the gospel message are “gospel disciplines”—what we often call “spiritual disciplines”—as a means by which we remain in the grace we first received in Christ. There’s a plethora of names used for what I’m calling “gospel disciplines”—spiritual practices, habits, rhythms, routines. They all address the same idea: the God-given means by which we relate to our Creator, through which he forms and transforms us into the image of Christ and keeps us in his grace. While there’s value in using each of the terms I mentioned, I’ve slowly become drawn to the notion of including ‘gospel’ at the front. The reason is that we can be prone to allowing our disciplines to become an appendix to the gospel—when in fact they’re intrinsic to the gospel itself.
This connection between the gospel message and gospel disciplines lies at the heart of Jesus’s teaching in John 15. When he encourages his followers to “abide” in him, it comes in the context of Jesus explaining to his disciples how they are to remain in relationship with him—in spite of his impending departure. Understandably, they’re a little confused considering that Jesus will be physically absent. So, what do the disciples do?
You can almost see the cogs turning in their minds, “we understand what you’re saying, but how do we remain in a relationship if we can’t see you?” Peter insists that he’ll follow Jesus to his death instead of accepting this reality. And Thomas—forever the sceptic—asks how they’re meant to know the way to meet with Jesus again in heaven if he’s absent from them.
If we’re honest, it is hard to imagine how it all works. But it’s into this space that Jesus provides his poignant teaching on abiding: “Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me” (John 15:3–4).
Jesus is abundantly clear; you are made clean—saved—by what Jesus has said, which encompasses what he is about to do in his death, resurrection, and ascension. But that’s not the end of the matter, they must also abide in Jesus and he in them. In the surrounding verses, the image of a vine and branches provides visual stimuli for his key point—abiding entails continual connection between the vine (Jesus) and branches (disciples). Without doing so, no fruit will be borne. In these verses, Jesus is highlighting the implications of being made clean in Christ and connecting them inseparably from abiding in him.
“We need a slightly more robust view of the gospel—one that firmly clings to salvation by grace alone, while recognizing that this grace is continually required from the moment of faith to the day it is made sight. ”
Perhaps you’re wondering if that’s really implying it’s part of the gospel message itself. That’s a fair thought. I think what makes it uncomfortably plain for us to see is when Jesus explains the consequences of failing to abide in him. “If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned” (John 15:6).
To be clear, this doesn’t mean we’re saved by works—Jesus clarified that we’re made clean through him. But it does mean we need a slightly more robust view of the gospel—one that firmly clings to salvation by grace alone, while recognizing that this grace is continually required from the moment of faith to the day it is made sight. That process is enabled through abiding in Jesus, and him abiding in the believer so that we might bear much fruit until he who began a good work in us has carried it to completion. The time between believing in Jesus for our salvation and meeting him face-to-face is filled with a vitally important part of the gospel—abiding in Jesus. It’s where sanctification, perseverance, and holiness take place. This is the space that our gospel disciplines reside.
Receiving Grace through Gospel Disciplines
Across the New Testament, we’re presented with an array of gospel disciplines. Numerous texts show us the means of abiding in Jesus—ways of continuing to receive his grace. Here’s a snapshot of how they tie into Jesus’s exhortation.
Abiding in Jesus through gospel disciplines: Crucial to the gospel message is the reality that we’re brought into a relationship with God once we believe in Jesus. The New Testament repeatedly encourages us to be active, not passive, in pursuit of this relationship. We see verbs connected with specific gospel disciplines for that reason; enter the rest of Jesus (Heb. 4:11), pray constantly (Rom. 12:12), allow Christ’s word to dwell in us (Col. 3:16), continue to meet with God’s people (Heb. 10:25), and draw near to God’s throne to receive mercy and find grace (Heb. 4:16). These disciplines aren’t disconnected from the gospel, rather a means of abiding in the relationship that grace was lavished upon us for a right relationship with God.
Jesus abiding in us through gospel disciplines: The vision of life between Jesus’s ascension and his return—or our departure to be with him—is one of continuing relationship, not waiting for it to begin when we arrive in heaven. He envisaged that his life, death, and resurrection would make this possible in a way that his physical presence could not. Because the Spirit would come and live in the disciples so that they wouldn’t be orphans (John 14:17–18). Jesus abides in us already, and our gospel disciplines are often the gift of grace through which we meet him.
Also, there are two extremes we should look to avoid when seeking to abide:
Avoiding Legalism: When we see the disciplines mentioned in the context of the gospel, we rightly position them in a context of grace and not works. This helps us avoid our tendency to fall into legalism. We see that gospel disciplines allow us to receive grace relationally and remind ourselves that this grace reached its climax in Christ’s death for us. As the old maxim goes; grace is not opposed to effort—it’s opposed to earning. Gospel disciplines aren’t a means of godliness, they’re a means to godliness and meeting with God himself.
Rejecting Lethargy: Sometimes I wonder if lethargy is a greater danger to our faith than legalism. It was for me. I assumed my salvation, so I failed to work it out with fear and trembling. We need to refuse to be so convinced of the need to avoid legalism, that we instead embrace lethargy and stop receiving grace from God regularly. When we see the gospel clearly, our response to grace should be to flock back to it through our gospel disciplines to receive and remember afresh the past, present and future grace shown in Jesus.
The gospel of grace includes receiving grace through spiritual disciplines because, at their heart, they are gospel disciplines.
Mitch Everingham is a pastor from Australia, living in Switzerland, and studying an MTh in Missiology at Edinburgh Theological Seminary, Scotland. He loves Jesus, his wife Suz, people, coffee, being outdoors, and reading a good book (in roughly that order). You can find his writing at Resilient Rhythms and on Instagram.