Again, as I said once before, you at least seem to be consistent with your beliefs . . . !
Many people will tell me that if a person commits gross sin that is proof that they were never born again. Following that line of reasoning you must continue to do good works in order to have assurance of salvation. Because if you do not continue to do good works (or at least if you start doing too many bad ones) that will be seen as evidence that you were never born again.
But you insist that a Christian is capable and indeed may commit gross sins. But then you also say that "
God would not allow a Christian to get to that level" of what I mentioned in the example. And you are now the second person I have known that comes though and clearly without reservation says that "God would kill that Christian and take him home early to heaven before it got that bad." Perhaps you think this is the "sin unto death" in I John 5?
I find that a quite fascinating concept that God will kill the believer who goes too far into sin . . . ! I don't agree with you on it, but again, at least you are consistent with you reasoning. (And I doubt you can show me a Scripture that clearly states that God will do this to a Chistian who starts sinning too much).
Well, I have a live real test case for you:
Bruce Gerencser is an evangelical pastor of some 20 + years turned atheist: by his own words he professed deep faith in Jesus, but now is an avowed atheist with a ministry to evangelicals!
I have just a few clips from one of his articles below: For more go to his website
The Life and Times of Bruce Gerencser | One Man's Journey ...
https://brucegerencser.net
Lacy prayed for those of us who had raised our hands and then had everyone stand. As the congregation sang Just as I am, Lacy said, “if you raised your hand, I want you to step out of your seat and come to the altar. Someone will meet you there and show you how you can know Jesus as your Lord and Savior.” Much to the surprise of my friends, I haltingly stepped out from my seat and walked to the front. I was met by Ray Salisbury — a church deacon. Ray had me kneel as he took me through a set of Bible verses called the Roman’s Road. After quizzing me on what I had read, Ray asked me if I wanted to be saved. I said, “yes,” and then Ray said, “pray this prayer after me: Dear Lord Jesus, I know I am a sinner, and I know you died on the cross for my sins. Right now, I ask you to forgive me of my sins and come into my heart and save me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.” After I prayed the prayer, Ray said, “AMEN!” “Did you really believe what you prayed?” I replied, “yes.” “Then you are now a child of God, a born-again Christian.”
The next Sunday, I was baptized, and the Sunday after that, I went forward again, letting the church know that you, Jesus, were calling me to preach. I was all in after that. For the next thirty-five years, Jesus, I lived and breathed you. You were my life, the sum of my existence.
After moving, I quickly secured secular employment and began working at a local IFB church. For the next twenty-five years, I pastored Evangelical churches in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Jesus, you were my constant companion, my lover, friend, and confidante. I sure loved you, and I believed you loved me too. We were BFFs, right? Sometimes, I wondered if you really loved me as much as I loved you. Our love affair was virtual in nature. We never met face-to-face, but I believed in my heart of hearts you were the very reason for my existence. When I doubted this, I attributed my doubts to Satan or me not praying hard enough or reading the Bible enough. I never thought for one moment, Jesus, that you might be a figment of my imagination, a lie taught to me by my parents and pastors. I was a true believer. That is, until I wasn’t.
At age fifty, I finally realized, Jesus, that you were a myth, the main character of a 2,000-year-old fictional story. I finally concluded that all those times when I wondered where you were, were in fact, true. I couldn’t find you because you were dead. You had died almost 2,000 years before. The Bible told me about your death, but I really believed that you were resurrected from the dead. I feel so silly now. Dead people don’t come back to life. Your resurrection from the dead was just a campfire story, and I had foolishly believed it. I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on myself. Everyone I knew believed the same story. All of us believed that the miracles attributed to you, Jesus, really happened; that you were a virgin-born God-man; that you ascended to Heaven to prepare a mansion for us to live in after we die.
It all seems so silly now, Jesus, but I really did believe in you. Fifty years, Jesus. The prime of my life, I gave to you, only to find out that you were a lie.
If you ever want to talk to me, you know where I live. Show up at my door, Jesus, and that will be a miracle I can believe in. Better yet, if you can help the Cincinnati Bengals win the Super Bowl, that would be awesome!
If you can’t help my football team win a few games, Jesus, what good are you? It’s not like I am asking you to feed the hungry, heal the sick, or put an end to violence and war. That would require you to give a shit, Jesus, and if there’s one thing I have learned over the past sixty-four years, it is this: you don’t give a shit about what happens on earth. We, humans, are on our own, and that’s fine with me.
A Sinner Saved by Reason,
Bruce
Now, for Bruce, what is it?
(1) Was he never born again?
(2) Is he going down the road that God will kill him soon? (if so, according to your view, he still has the new nature, and would still go to heaven if he dies).
And Bruce is not an isolated case: there are hundreds of ones like this out there . . .