I Will Never Cast Out

So far, we’ve looked at the lowly and gentleness of Christ through the eyes of Thomas Goodwin and John Owen. Now, let’s turn our attention to maybe the most unlikely of scholars.

Outside of the Bible, what is history’s best-selling book? Pilgrim’s Progress, by John Bunyan

Bunyan was poor and uneducated, yet he’s made a lasting impact on people of faith. While he is most well-known for Pilgrim’s Progress, he wrote fifty-seven other books, and in 1678, he penned Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ. In typically Puritan fashion, Bunyan takes a single verse and extracts all that he can from it, an entire book’s worth!

John 6:37 takes place in a discourse where Jesus proclaims Himself to be the bread off life for the spiritually famished. In the middle of this discourse, Jesus announces John 6:37 “All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out.” This verse may have been Bunyan’s favorite, his “life verse,” if you will, for he quotes it often in his writing. In Come and Welcome, he examines the passage deeply, and let us consider a moment the theological founts we can drink from this passage:

“All…” and not ‘most.” Rescue is certain once the Father’s loving and rescuing gaze has been cast upon a wandering sinner.

“…the Father…” reminds us that God is not some vindictive Father that needs His uncontrollable rage to be assuaged by Jesus. It is the Father’s love to sets salvation in motion.

“…gives…” underscores grace, not some haggled-over price. The Father delights to hand the desperate rebel over to His Son’s gracious care.

“…will come…” God intends and does save, and His plan to save is not thwarted or frustrated, but He who began a good work in us will complete it.

“…and whoever comes…” We are not robots. While God is the initiator and enabler and Sovereign Lord over our salvation, it is us who must respond. We are not dragged in, kicking and screaming, but yielded according to the will that God works in us. “Divine grace is so radical that it reaches down and turns around our very desires. …Christ becomes beautiful.” Whoever will come is welcome.

“…comes to me…” We come to Jesus, to a person, not to a set of doctrines, as important as theology is. We do not come to a church, contrary to some ecclesiastical beliefs and as important and necessary as the church is. We come to Christ.

Which one of these truths to you find particularly impactful right now, and why?

While all of the truths contained in this verse are beautiful and good (they are, after all, Christ’s own words of life!), Bunyan focuses in on the latter part of the verse: “whoever comes to me I will never cast out.” Bunyan writes: (read Bunyan’s writing - pg.61-62).

In light of what Bunyan has said, what are some ways you think we try to wiggle out from under Christ’s promise never to cast us out? Do you find it difficult to believe that Christ will never cast you out? If so, why?

John 6:37 actually uses a double negative, and while that is poor English grammar that negates the negative - I would never not cast you out - it actually serves as a point of emphasis in the Greek: “I will never - never - cast out.” It serves as an ancient way of highlighting and bolding a point, in essence, “I will most certainly never, ever cast out.” This is all meant to point us to this glorious truth - the grace of Christ is steadfast and persevering. Our tendency is to say, “But I…” and He responds, “I’ll never cast out.”

Ortlund says:

Fallen, anxious sinners are limitless in their capacity to perceive reasons for Jesus to cast them out. We are factories of fresh resistances to Christ’s love. Even when we run out of tangible reasons to be cast out, such as specific sins or failures, we ten to retain a vague sense that, given enough time, Jesus will finally grow tired of us and hold us at arm’s length.

He continues:

No, wait” - we say, cautiously approaching Jesus - “you don’t understand. I’ve really messed up, in all kinds of ways.”

I know, He repsonds.

“You know most of it, sure. Certianly more than what others see. But there’s peversity down inside me that is hidden from everyone.”

I know it all.

“Well - the thing is, it isn’t just my past. It’s my present too.”

I understand.

“But I don’t know if I can break free of this any time soon.”

That’s the only kind of person I’m here to help.

“The burden is heavy - and heavier all the time.”

Then let me carry it.

“It’s too much to bear.”

Not for me.

“You don’t get it. My offenses aren’t directed toward others. They’re against you.”

Then I am the one most suited to forgive them.

“But the more of the ugliness in me you discover, the sooner you’ll get fed up with me.”

Whoever comes to me I will never cast out.

How often do we justify our reluctance to draw near to Jesus on the basis of some similar conversation or inner dialogue?

Our experience in this world is that every relationship has a breaking point. If we offend often and well enough, if a relationship is damaged enough, if we back-stab enough times, we’re going to suffer an unrepairable break in our relationship with the other person. But, “we cannot present a reason for Christ to finally close off His heart to His own sheep.” The only thing that’s required is coming to Him, first for Forgiveness and countless times afterwords for forgiveness as well.

But, maybe it’s not necessarily sin. Maybe it’s the hardships and pains of this world that cause us to say, “Surely God has abandoned me.” You know the story, probably well - pain piles up, life is saturated with sorrow and suffering, and the conclusion seems to be clear: God has abandoned us, cast us out. After all, doesn’t God love me? How could I go through such heartache?! It’s important to remember that life circumstances do not determine the measure of Christ’s love for us. It is exactly in these difficult moments that we can know the love of Christ all the more as it is the only thing that carries through painful times. Compare it to a two-year-old holding his father’s hand as the slowly slip deeper down the slope of a zero-entry pool. Sure, the child has a hold of the father’s hand, but the safety of that child doesn’t rest in his ability to cling to the father, but the father’s ability to hold on tightly to the child.

So with Christ. We cling to Him, to be sure. But our grip is that of a two-year-old amid the stormy waves of life. His sure grasp never falters. Psalm 63:8 expresses the double-sided truth: “My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.”

This is more than what we may call the doctrine of perseverance or “once-saved, always saved.” Make no mistake, this is the doctrine of the perseverance of the heart of Christ. Sure, people claiming to follow Christ can fall away, and those who are truly saved and indeed saved forever. But this is more, this is the heart of God, made tangible in His Son, reminding us that His heart for us doesn’t grow cold, and His work to save us doesn’t fall short. “He cannot bear to part with His own, even when they most deserve to be forsaken.”

We raise our objections, “But I…”

But all of our best-reasoned arguments can never overcome His own powerful testimony, “…will never be cast out.”

Final question: what does the persevering heart of Christ mean for you this week?