Hi, My Name is Amy—I’m a Sinner
The opening line of an author under the tab, “about” propagating “gospel-centered” theology (ie., antinomianism, Sonship Theology, New Calvinism, Gospel contemplation) reminds me of the infamous introductions at AA meetings: “Hi, my name is Bob—I’m an alcoholic ‘Hi Bob.’” Amy Engle, the author of A Voice Crying Out blog (apparently because we are desperate rather than those who are much more than conquers through Jesus Christ) states it this way: “I’m Amy. I was born in sin. In sin, my mother conceived me. I have broken every law of GOD and I deserve the full extend of His just wrath against me.” Hi Amy.
I take this approach because after continual hounding by readers and my wife, I have finally seen it. What? Our sinfulness has become reason for boasting in order to make much of God and his grace—not us. Think about it: what is really the difference between that and making much of sin “so that grace may abound”? And if all we talk about is our sin in order to lift God up, It is hard for me to believe that actual sin acts would be seen as any big deal. In fact, seems like they would serve to deepen such convictions. The one that causes Susan to harp (because she is an angel) is what she experienced in her own life. She was saved at an early age and took following the Lord in obedience seriously. Growing up, she suffered through testimony after testimony of converts harping about how sinful they were before Christ saved them. When she was a young girl at youth camp, where such testimonies sing more than the birds, she sought counseling because she wondered if she was ever sinful enough to be saved. After all, take Amy’s testimony for example, she has “broken every law of God.” Woe, I’m not even goin’ there.
This does seem bizarre when you think about it. When I was a young boy, I lived for awhile with my grandparents. My grandfather was my hero and I loved him with all of my heart. I sought to always please him. Before he left for work, he would always assign tasks for me to complete around the small farm they had. I would always do them and more. Around the time for him to come home, I would always meet him in the driveway because I couldn’t wait to show him all that I had done. “Look Grandpa, see what I have done? And look, I did this too!” His beaming approval was my reward. Does it not remind you of the parable of the talents? “look Lord, you gave me five talents and I made five more!” On the other hand, I loathed it when I misbehaved and my grandfather had to punish me. It was by no means anything I wanted to talk about—they were considered bad memories for both of us. But it would seem that the New Calvinist version of the same parable would be a boasting about how evil we were; and apparently expecting Christ to say, “Well done faithful servant.”
My wife and visitors here are right; this is a glorifying of evil. Along with this is the New Calvinist glorifying of helplessness, even though we “can do all things through Him who strengthens us.” God strengthens us, absolutely, but we still “do,” and we should do it well. Like many New Calvinists, A praying skeleton is Engle’s internet graviator (the last time I remember seeing her comments on another blog). Apparently, nothing but a voice crying out because as Paul David Tripp says of Christians: “When you are dead you can’t do anything.” If you are a Christian, you have been given talents. What’s your strategy for when the Master of the house returns for an accounting? Your call.
paul

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