Wake Up, O Sleeper!

John Piper told me in a sermon I listened to last week that the call of God is this:
God comes to a man who is asleep -- dead -- and says:
"Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." (Ephesians 5:14)
One of my oft-pondered questions is how God's sovereignty and man's responsibility fit together; this was a vivid and enlightening picture for me. The man who hears this call has already heeded it; you cannot hear "wake up!" and then decide if you're going to obey.

A disobedient child last week fleshed out this picture even more. In the midst of a destructive tantrum, unresponsive to punishment, and completely unwilling to submit, she was obviously in bondage to her sin. An enemy, unlovely, dead in her transgressions. We prayed with her, and she responded with rage; she could not even muster the desire to ask for help. She avoided our questions about if she was ready to obey or else answered them outright with "No!"

So were we supposed to give up? On the contrary, God gives us every reason to believe that these are just the ones He came to rescue. "As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins." "Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds." And what did God do with His enemies? "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." He did not bend the rules one single bit, yet He found a way to keep us from death.  It has nothing to do with us even having the wherewithal to appreciate what has been done, much less with us having something worthy of our own to offer. It is solely Him: "But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive in Christ, even when we were dead in transgressions -- it is by grace you have been saved." And then, how does He convince us of our need for repentance? How does He make us accept His gift? "It is his kindness that leads us to repentance." On top of everything else, He is kind to us in our rebellion, in our bondage.

The words of a song played in my mind: "He breaks the power of canceled sin, he sets the prisoner free!" He has already broken all the power of sin; it is canceled. ("He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross.") It is finished. This dear child was free; she had only to walk in that freedom.

A spiritual battle took place on the floor of the bedroom that evening; fervent prayers and tears were lifted in faith, and the answer was not immediate. Discussion, rebellion, tears, sorrow over bondage but not over sin, prayer, despair. At last, in a quiet moment, the child spoke some new words: "I'm sorry I disobeyed, Mommy. Will you forgive me?"

The joy over the one sheep who was found -- not who found her own way home, but who was found by the Shepherd, called from her slumber -- was great.

"Wake up, O sleeper; rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you."

If God has called me from my sin in such a dramatic and definite way, is there any way I can keep from hearing the rest of His call on my life?