Resident Aliens

I invite you to take your Bibles once again, and we’ll turn to this first letter of Peter. The song that has just been sung is so appropriate, in that Peter was an individual whose willingness to be consecrated to Christ led to his death for Christ. History records that he was crucified—not in the same manner as Christ. It may be folklore, but history records that he was actually crucified upside down and that he himself asked for that because he didn’t feel worthy to go in the same manner as Christ. And so, when we think of consecration and we think of the life of Peter and the letter that he’s writing here to scattered Christians, we realize how relevant it is to us—those of us who are Christian—as we seek to live our lives in a pagan environment, in a world that doesn’t appreciate Christ nor understand his Word. And it’s for that reason we study the Word of God: so that in learning it, we might proclaim it.

And before we look at these verses, I’d like to pause for a further moment in prayer:

Father, I ask that you might take my words and speak through them; that you will take our minds and help us to think clearly; that you will take our very lives, Lord, and transform them by your power, that we might live in such a way as to silence the foolish talk of ignorant men.[1] For Jesus’ sake. Amen.

With your Bible open in 1 Peter 3, I want to turn you just for a moment to Philippians chapter 3 and to a verse which you’ll find there—Philippians 3:20. And Paul is writing, and he’s distinguishing between those who are the enemies of the cross of Christ and those whose lives have been changed by Jesus. And he says of them, “Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is on earthly things. But,” he says, “our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.”[2] If you turn over, actually, just a couple of pages in your Bible to Colossians 3, you find him emphasizing the same thing: “Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.”[3]

And this notion of citizenship being something that is not simply earthly in its configuration but rather is heavenly is at the very foundation of what Peter is writing here in the second half of this first chapter. As believers in the Lord Jesus Christ, he is reminding us, as he does with his use of the word “stranger”—which he uses again, incidentally, in 2:11. He says, “Dear friends, I urge you, as aliens and strangers in the world…” Peter wants to make it perfectly clear for us that we are only temporary residents. We won’t be staying here forever. It may be that we stay for longer than some others. We may only be here for a short time. Even if we live three score years and ten and a wee bit more, still, life is very brief. And Peter says, “I want you to realize that your citizenship is in another place, and your gaze should be focused there.” Indeed, the word that is translated here “strangers,” paroikia, is the word which gives us our English word parochial. And indeed, the initial English usage of parochial, or “a parochial outlook,” was actually this—not the notion of small, contained units, but rather this idea of being parochial; of being dwellers from another time, as it were; of having a location to which we look which is different from this.

Now, it’s very, very important to us—and we’ll see this as we go through this letter—that we don’t use this to opt out of our responsibilities as citizens. And this will actually come when we look at the section which begins at 2:13. And Peter is really saying that, first of all, the fact to lay hold of is that we are aliens—we are strangers—but we are citizens, and we are to be servants. And these three truths concerning us, which are interwoven throughout his letter, will be worked out in our coming studies.

But for this morning, we want to focus on this notion that as we engage in our earthly routine, we do so from the perspective of heavenly reality. The notion of being extraterrestrial (or supraterrestrial, which is really a more accurate statement concerning us) is born out in some small measure—at least the notion is conveyed—in the movie E.T. And only the hardest hearts, in watching that funny-looking creature, cannot empathize with him as he tries to put together his little telephone system, because he desperately wants to phone home. And etched indelibly in your mind is that picture of his funny finger pointing up into the darkness of the night, and his croaky little voice, which I won’t endeavor to imitate: “E.T. phone home.”

Now, it is this truth which is actual reality for the believer. The fact that you or I this morning may be locked in our time-space capsule—may be so consumed with what we have, and who we are, and where we live, and how we’ve been educated, and what we’re going to do, and what we’re going to make, and where we’ll be employed, and what people think of us, and the school tie that we wear, and the accent that we have, and the country to which we belong—the fact that we are consumed by all of that does not negate one iota this fundamental truth: if you are a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ this morning, you are a temporary resident. You are actually a resident alien, and your citizenship is somewhere else.

Well then, how would you ever identify a resident alien? How would you ever know what one looked like? How would the believer stand out in the society? Well, the answer to that is provided for us in these verses, 17–25. And on the outline this morning, which you should find in your bulletin, I’ve provided a number of marks, or characteristics, of the resident alien. And so there is a test implicit in this: let’s test ourselves against the marks to find out if we are resident aliens. And if we find that we’re not, then we’re going to have to do something about it—either to continue to live, permanently, with the focus here or, as God by his Spirit would be at work in our hearts, to transfer our citizenship, to take out a new passport, as it were, and to look to a different dimension altogether.

As we engage in our earthly routine, we do so from the perspective of heavenly reality.

Reverent Fear

Resident aliens, first of all, live their lives in reverent fear. That’s what he’s saying in verse 17. “Since,” he says, “you call on a Father”—a Father unlike our earthly fathers, who tend to discriminate even between their children, no matter how much they try not to; who can be arbitrary in their decision-making processes; who one minute can tell you yes and then later can tell you no, even though they never planned to change their minds. The Father of heaven, he says, isn’t like that. He “judges each man’s work” with impartiality. He says, “[In light of that,] live your lives as strangers here in reverent fear.”

This is the wonder of being in Christ: that the Judge of all the earth, who will do right,[4] that the one who created the universe ex nihilo—out of absolutely nothing—is someone whom we are able to approach in Jesus and address as our Father. Paul writes of it in Romans 8 when he says that the Spirit of God has been given to the believer whereby, at work within our lives, we cry out from inside, “Abba, Father,”[5] or “Daddy.” And when you come home, as fathers, and you drive up your driveway, and there are a slew of children from the neighborhood playing in your yard, a number of them may call out to you a number of things and may address you in a number of ways, but only those who are your own will call out, “Hey, Dad!” And as they call, they bear testimony to the relationship.

Now, the notion of reverent fear is difficult for us in a society where fear is something to be set aside and reverence is almost nonexistent. The idea of giving to God unmitigating obedience is alien in a society that no longer gives the same kind of obedience to its parents. And in Leviticus chapter 19, way back in the Old Testament, God said that reverence for him and reverence in the home were interwoven. Leviticus 19: “The Lord said to Moses, ‘Speak to the entire assembly of Israel and say to them: “Be holy, because I, the Lord your God, am holy.”’” How will holiness be expressed? “‘“Each of you must respect his mother and father, and you must observe my Sabbaths. I am the Lord your God.”’”[6]

And right at the very heart of God’s purposes for humanity is an innate, developed, obedient, reverent respect for parents within the home. And one of the reasons that we are so unable to think of giving to God reverential fear is because the notion of any form of reverence within the family unit is all but obliterated. You need to go to the Southern states in order to at least get a semblance of respect, at least verbally. To hear children referring to their father as “sir” and to their mother as “Yes, ma’am” sounds kind of quaint, but it sounds extremely nice to me. It sounds at least approaching reverence. It sounds as though it at least approaches respect. And the respect for the father within the home and the respect for the Father in all creation is interwoven in the purposes of God, so that children who are learning to respect their parents will be learning to respect God, and those who know what it is to come before God in reverential fear will not come increasingly before their moms and dads with flippant tongues and surly smiles and disgruntled sighs. Reverential awe is written into Scripture. Indeed, it is reverential awe which Proverbs says “is the beginning of wisdom.”[7]

Now, you just take your concordance at the back of your Bible and go through and look up “fear” and find out how many times it’s used. It is not a fear that drives us from God as Father, but it is a fear in which we are drawn to him as Father—a sense of awe, like when you get a telephone call from somebody you regard as important, and they tell you, “So-and-So’s on the line.” And you go, “Oh!” And then you speak, and you try and listen carefully, and you speak clearly. Why? Because there is a sense of awe in the relationship.

The story’s told of the wee boy who was out with his friends. They were up to nonsense, and they were getting further and further into a behavior that wasn’t exactly what you would hope from your children. And as this little character began to resist the influence of his peers and refused to engage in their activities, his peers began to taunt him, and they started to say to him, “You’re no fun!” or “You’re a coward!” and so on. And eventually, one boy said to him, “Ah, he’s just afraid that if he does this, his father will hurt him.” And the wee boy said, “No, I’m not. I’m just afraid that if I do this, I will hurt my father.” And that is the reverential fear of 1 Peter 2:11—living in the fear of the frown of God upon our lives, longing to live under the sunshine of his smile. A resident alien whose gaze is to the Father on high will live his life, or her life, in reverent fear.

Redemption

Second characteristic is this: that resident aliens have been redeemed, have been born again. Now, what have they been redeemed from? The answer to that is given in the second half of verse 18: “redeemed,” he says, “from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers.” Back to this idea of inheritance, which we mentioned before—the notion of things being passed down as family heirlooms. Somebody leaves you a violin, somebody leaves you a desk, somebody leaves you a library—whatever it might be. And Peter is saying, “In man’s natural state, what has been handed down to him by his forefathers is an empty way of life, is a vain approach to life.” Indeed, the word which is used here, mataías, means vain. It means lacking in reality.

And he’s saying this: “They may have passed on to you convention. They may have passed on to you religion. They may have passed on to you worldly wisdom. But,” he says, “when you gather it all together and compress it into an understandable phrase, it is in essence an empty way of life.” It is a picture of tinsel towns and cardboard characters that make up life without God. It is the expression, in the words of Lennon and McCartney:

He’s a real nowhere man,
[Living] in his nowhere land,
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody.[8]

Now, why is he that “nowhere man”? He is that “nowhere man” because what was handed down to him is an empty way of life. And unless somebody comes to fill that empty life, then men and women who are empty will fill it with all kinds of things, some of which may be good, some of which may be bad, and all of which will never empty the ultimate void which is, in the words of Svetlana Stalin in her book Twenty Letters to a Friend—she says, “Within my heart, there was a God shaped vacuum,” despite the fact that her father, Stalin, brought her up to believe that science could answer her every question.

So a resident alien has been redeemed from the empty way of life. I think it was a Tamla-Motown song that used to go, “My world is empty without you, babe.”[9] And the Christian says, “My world is empty without you, Lord. I had an empty way of life, but I met you.” Redeemed from that.

Redeemed—what with? Well, you’ll notice what he tells us in the opening part of verse 18. The redemption was not accomplished as a result of the use of transient, perishable, earthly things. This could never be brought about simply by the payment of money. The Israelites were redeemed from the bondage of Egypt as a result of the death of the firstborn,[10] and the believers have been redeemed from the corruption and emptiness and decay of sin by the death of Jesus Christ, God’s only Son. So we cannot buy redemption. We cannot work for redemption. We may only enter into this redemption as a result of the sacrifice of another.

And when you look at this very carefully in terms of the Scriptures, you understand how it is central to it all. For example, turn with me, just for a moment, to Mark chapter 10—Mark chapter 10, as I give you a cross-reference here. Mark 10:45. Jesus, explaining the nature of what it will mean to rule and this amazing paradox of servanthood being the key to rulership, he says in verse 45, “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” And that is exactly what you find when you flip back to 1 Peter 2:24. Speaking of Jesus, it says, “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds [we] have been healed.”

When John the Baptist walked across the face of the Judean hillsides with the [Old] Testament filling his mind, with the notion of being a forerunner who was clearing the way for one who was to come, his gaze was up and out as he looked for the one who would be the ransom for the many. And then, you remember, with his disciples gathered around him—who knew what it was to have a repentance from sin but not to know what it was to have faith in a Redeemer[11]—one day he says to them, “Look, [there’s] the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!”[12]

And then he must have turned and explained to them, and turned them back to Leviticus, and said, “Remember how there was that scapegoat driven out into the wilderness? Remember how there was that perfect lamb as a sacrifice on the Day of Atonement for sin?”[13]

“Yeah, we understand that.”

“Well, did it finally convince you? Did it finally answer the question?”

“No. It had to be done every year.”

“Well, wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was one sacrifice that was substitutionary and that was sufficient?”[14]

“Yes, it would.”

“Well, let me tell you: here he comes—the Lamb of God, who redeems as a result of the shedding of his blood.”

And this is the message of Christianity. It stands unique in the religions of the world. This isn’t “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and try and be a good Buddhist.” This is not “Try and enter into Hinduism and gather everything to you.” This is not “Sit cross-legged on the floor and try and think of something that is vaguely transcendental.” This is “Hey, face the fact: you couldn’t do anything at all. But someone came. The sinless Savior died because I’m sinful.” It was one of the old Puritans who said—as this dawned upon him, he said, “I know only two things for sure: I know that Jesus is a great Savior, and I know that I am a great sinner.”[15] And that is all you need to know to come to faith in him. And that is where we have been redeemed and brought into this fullness of life.

And this is the significance of the phrase “born again.” It’s simply another description of this redemptive process of God. And you’ll pick it up in verse 23. What does a resident alien look like? A resident alien has been redeemed; a resident alien has been “born again”—and, once again, “not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God.” That’s why John, when he writes his great Gospel, he begins by saying that this did not come about—that people were born of God—they were born not as a result of “human decision” nor as a result of “a husband’s will,” but they were “born of God.”[16] You’ll find that in John 1:13.

You see, I was born as a citizen of the United Kingdom, but I’ve become a resident alien. We were all born as earthly citizens. We must become resident aliens. The resident aliency does not run in human veins. It does not come about as a result of the decision of another. It comes about as a result of us—earthly, time-bound creatures—acknowledging that in Jesus we have a Savior, a Master, and as a Friend. You see, the relevance of this is that this, then, ought to control what we do and where we go and how we think—that we have a radically different worldview because we actually belong to a very different world.

So, the redemption takes place from our empty way of life as a result not of “perishable things” but as a result of the shedding of his blood—verse 19: Jesus, the “lamb without blemish or defect.” And that answers the question and takes it forward, and it lets us know that we weren’t redeemed by something, but we were redeemed by someone. And this someone—verse 20—was not dreamt up somewhere along the purposes of history but was chosen before the creation of the world.

Get your mind around that one if you would. Think that one out! Before ever there was anything, God—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—entered into a Trinitarian decision with one another, if you like, as to who would do what. And the Son agreed to go and be born, to come and live in a stable, to live as a carpenter, to walk the streets, and, finally, to die a death. The cross is not something that was supplied in time in order to correct a defect in a system. God did not make the world and then go, “Whoa! We’re going to have to do something about this!” God in his omniscient wisdom understood the horrendous implications of man’s freedom and the results of his freedom resting in rebellion. And God, instead of saying, “To hell with all of you!” pursued us in Christ. You see, that’s the wonder of redemption! For I am a sinner and deserve nothing. I have nothing to plead in my case. If God were to put me down there, it would be justice enough. But he has sent his Son. The hounds of heaven, as it were, have come after us.

In that great old song—the old gospel song:

There were ninety and nine that safely lay
In the shelter of the fold,
But one was out on the hills away,
Far off from the gates of gold.

And it paints the picture of a shepherd. Although he’s got ninety-nine in the fold, he’s out looking for the one.[17] And I don’t know if I can recall the words. I think it goes:

But none of the ransomed ever knew
How deep were the waters crossed,
Nor how dark was the night that the Lord passed through
Ere he found [the] sheep that was lost.[18]

You see, the hallelujahs that are to emerge from our hearts emerge from the wonder of humility when it dawns upon us that Jesus Christ did not look down upon us and pick us in the way a soccer team is picked. He didn’t look down upon us and pick us the way you’d look in the back of a magazine and pick out all the top MBA candidates. He did not do an interview process on the basis of the brightest and the best and the bravest and the smartest. He looked down, and he found insignificant people—individuals who had no interest in him—and he set his hand upon their lives. Otherwise, why would you ever be in church here this morning?

A resident alien lives in reverent fear. And the reverent fear is born of his understanding of redemption. Read Ephesians 1:1–4.

Belief in God

Thirdly, a resident alien believes in God. “Oh,” you say, “isn’t that rather redundant, then, after all that you’ve said so far?” No! Look at verse 21: “Through him”—through Jesus—“you believe[d] in God,” and God “raised him from the dead and glorified him, and so [our] faith and [our] hope are in God.” The phraseology describes an active approach. It speaks of a commitment to. It might read “believing into God.” “Through him, you have believed into God.” You’re all wrapped up now with God. You’ve taken the futile way of thinking that marked you before, and you have come to find the fullness and wonder of it in Jesus. There’s been a transfer. There’s been a change. There’s been a new passport issuance. And God has accepted the sacrifice of Jesus and declared the same by raising him from the dead and said, “What he has done as a work of ransom is acceptable to me.”

And so a resident alien lives in faith and in hope. And their faith and hope are in God—not just a god but “the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.”[19] We have not entered the realm of human tradition and idolatrous worship and empty illusion.

Obedience to the Truth

Fourthly, a resident alien obeys the truth. Verse 22: “Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth…” It’s obviously a reference to their response to the gospel in the first place. What happens in saving faith? What happens when a man or a woman becomes a Christian—moves from their thought that they’re going to live down here forever and takes on temporary residency status?

Hearing it is not sufficient. Hearing must be marked by heeding.

Well, this is what happens: they obey the truth. The Word of God comes to them as truth. The truth of God is not only heard, but the truth of God is heeded. There are countless people who come through the Chapel Sunday by Sunday, and they hear the truth of God. They may deny that it is the truth of God, but God’s Word claims to be truth. They hear the truth, but they don’t heed the truth. Hearing it is not sufficient. Hearing must be marked by heeding. And he says, “You have purified yourselves by hearing and heeding the truth.” In other words, we faced the truth about the fact that we’re sinful, we faced the truth about the fact that Jesus is the Savior, we turned around to embrace him, and we entered into the wonder of it all.

This clears up all the notion about who’s a Christian, and what’s a Christian, and “What do you say?” and “What do I say?” I have conversations all the time, and I say to somebody, “Well, is So-and-So a Christian?”

They say, “Well, it depends what you mean by ‘Christian.’”

“Well, no, it doesn’t depend what I mean by Christian! It depends what a Christian is! A Christian is a resident alien. A Christian has been redeemed from their empty way of life. A Christian lives in reverent fear. A Christian believes into God. And a Christian obeys the truth. Now, does the person do all that?”

“No.”

“Well, they’re not a Christian.” They may live in a Christian country. They may do Christian things. They may attend Christian services. But that doesn’t make them a Christian.

It is active, participant commitment unto and obedience in. So, the response to the truth is not simply detached, but it’s active submission.

Incidentally, here are the initial characteristics of the benefits of the gospel. One: forgiveness of sins, and the purification which comes with it, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. And the perfect tense is used here to remind us of a decisive act in the past that has abiding consequences in the present. Can you think of times in your life that you made a decisive decision in the past that has abiding consequences? Sure! You remember the interview when you joined that company? Put on your best suit; you went in—told your wife, “Think about me,” and she did. And they gave you the job, and you joined, and that was seven years ago. It was a decisive moment in the past that’s had abiding consequences.

What about your wedding anniversary, men? Ladies? August 16, 1975—103 degrees in sweaty Philadelphia: there I stood, a hundred and fifty pounds, sweating in some brown tuxedo that I didn’t even like, chosen by my wife, just so we could get off on the right start. (It was chosen collaboratively.) It was a moment in the past that has abiding consequences today. Three children, hills, valleys, mountains, streams, rivers mark what has been a part of it. Can I ask you this morning: Has there been a decisive moment in your past—an encounter with Jesus Christ—that has abiding consequences in the present? Are you a resident alien?

Love for One Another

Let me wrap this up. Resident aliens love one another. And this we noticed last time. The work of God gives us love to share, and it gives us a whole new family to share it with, so that you have sincere love for your brothers. Therefore, he says, “Love one another deeply, from the heart.” The word here is actually anupokritos, from which we get our word unhypocritical love. In other words, don’t pretend to love. Don’t play at love. Don’t be wordy with your love. Don’t be sentimental. But rather, as we noted last Sunday evening, let your love be marked by a deep-rooted loyalty—a deep-rooted loyalty which recognizes that you’re not perfect, and neither is the person you’re trying to love; that situations aren’t perfect; a love which is loyal, that weathers the storms, that overcomes the disappointments, that helps to get one another through.

And what is the key to loving like this? It is through the living and enduring Word of God. It is through obeying the truth that we learn sincere love for one another. It’s not as a result of emotional surges; it’s as a result of obedience to the truth. Christian love may be demonstrated by a hug or by a handshake or by a helping hand, but Christian love is not transmitted by any of those things. Christian love is born through the truth of the gospel. What is it clears away malice? What is it deals with disappointments? What is it heals our hurts? What is it deals with my anger and my spite and my envy and my slander? And the answer is obedience to the truth of God’s Word.

Trust in the Word of the Lord

And finally, resident aliens are those who trust in the Word of the Lord. Verse 24: “All men are like grass … all their glory[’s] like the flowers of the field.” Every cemetery in Cleveland testifies to that truth. Everybody believes they will be immortal. People go around saying, “What was that guy’s name again?” “Frail as summer’s flower we flourish; blows the wind and it is gone.”[20] It may be your objective to become a great musician—and I hope you do. You may even go down in history as a musician. They may even play your music long after you’re gone. But in the light of eternity, it’s a drop, it’s a moment, it’s a breath. That’s why the only way to make a mark is to make a mark for God. That is the only way in which to find confidence: to find our confidence not in the transience of our lives but in the eternity of God’s Word—the Word which, he says in verse 25, “stands forever.” And this is the Word that was “evangelized to you,” which was “proclaimed to you”—the good news.

Well, there you have it. Resident aliens: they trust in the Word of the Lord. Resident aliens love one another. Resident aliens obey the truth. They believe in God. Resident aliens have been redeemed and born again. And resident aliens live in reverent fear.

When we travel as a family, if ever we are going somewhere that takes us out of the United States, we take the shortest passport line possible, because we can take one or the other. Either I can go with Sue and say I belong to her, or she can come with me and say she belongs to me. Or whatever the shortest line is, that’s the one we go for. Brings its own kind of identity crisis. You’re not sure just where you belong or to whom you belong. But it’s pretty clear. The signs are up. “All those with United States passports, line up here. All others...” It’s okay. We do the exact same. We do the exact same. “All others, over here.”

Well, God looks this morning, and he says, “All those with passports for the heavenly city, line up here. Take your stand with your citizenship above. And all others, why not get in line?” No elaborate forms to fill out. You don’t have to go and sit in one of those dumb booths and get two identical photographs taken. You don’t have to pay money. You don’t have to wait four and a half weeks for it to come back. Today, you may transfer from “all the others” to “those who hold passports for the heavenly city.” Become a resident alien. Live for Jesus Christ.

And to those of us who have stood in the line marked “Resident Alien,” the world has a right to see the difference that our lives display. Otherwise, they may be forced to assume that our passport is fake and our profession is unreal.

Let’s pray together:

Our God and our Father, thank you for your Word, and thank you for the clarity of Peter as he speaks to those who are, in Christ, as strangers. As we listen to some of the nonsense that comes across our airwaves, as we hear the facile arguments of the people in their wisdom trying to justify their unbelief, as we listen to people justifying pornography and explaining to us why the filthy lyrics in rap music is just a matter of freedom, in our spirits we say, “I don’t belong here! I’m an alien in this environment.”

God, we pray that you will help us to live as aliens—that the loveliness of Jesus might mark our lives, that the clarity of truth might fill our words, that the purity of our dealings and the honesty and integrity of our lives might silence the foolish talk of ignorant men. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.

[1] See 1 Peter 2:15.

[2] Philippians 3:19–20 (NIV 1984).

[3] Colossians 3:1 (NIV 1984).

[4] See Genesis 18:25.

[5] Romans 8:15 (NIV 1984).

[6] Leviticus 19:1–3 (NIV 1984).

[7] Proverbs 9:10 (NIV 1984).

[8] John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “Nowhere Man” (1965).

[9] Eddie Holland, Lamont Dozier, and Brian Holland, “My World Is Empty Without You” (1965).

[10] See Exodus 11:1–10; 12:29–32.

[11] See Acts 19:1–7.

[12] John 1:29 (NIV 1984).

[13] See Exodus 12:1–6; Leviticus 16; Numbers 29:7–11.

[14] See Hebrews 10:1–18.

[15] John Newton, quoted in John Pollock, Amazing Grace: John Newton’s Story (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1981), 182. Paraphrased.

[16] John 1:13 (NIV 1984).

[17] See Luke 15:1–7.

[18] Elizabeth Cecilia Clephane, “There Were Ninety and Nine” (1868).

[19] 1 Peter 1:3 (NIV 1984).

[20] Henry Francis Lyte, “Praise, My Soul, the God of Heaven” (1834).