There are some passages of Scripture that we are often tempted to skim through, or even skip over entirely. Genealogies, for example, or the greetings at the ends of New Testament letters. Like this one, at the end of the last letter written by the Apostle Paul before he was martyred:
Do your best to come to me quickly, for Demas, because he loved this world, has deserted me and has gone to Thessalonica. Crescens has gone to Galatia, and Titus to Dalmatia. Only Luke is with me. Get Mark and bring him with you, because he is helpful to me in my ministry. I sent Tychicus to Ephesus. When you come, bring the cloak that I left with Carpus at Troas, and my scrolls, especially the parchments.
Alexander the metalworker did me a great deal of harm. The Lord will repay him for what he has done. You too should be on your guard against him, because he strongly opposed our message.
At my first defense, no one came to my support, but everyone deserted me. May it not be held against them (2 Timothy 4:9-16).
As I came upon this passage in my quiet time recently, I was struck by an interesting, and I think important, contrast. All the believers in Rome deserted Paul at his first defense, and he forgave them. But Paul has harsh words about Demas, who fled “because he loved this world.” And then he says about Alexander that “the Lord will repay him for what he has done.” All of the brothers failed, but Paul doesn’t seem to be treating them all the same way. And it occurs to me that, although we don’t know for sure, the difference just might be what happened after they failed.
I walked away from Christ in 1997, but he brought me back. Peter betrayed Christ. Judas betrayed Christ. But Peter was restored and Judas took his own life. There is both a hope and a sober warning in this. Hope for those who have fallen, that even after a major betrayal they can still repent and be restored. Failure, even outright betrayal, is not necessarily fatal. As Paul wrote earlier this same letter:
If we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot disown himself (2 Timothy 2:13).
But there’s also a sober warning for those who are being tempted, that not everyone who turns away will come back. A Calvinist would say that those who turn away and don’t return were never genuinely saved in the first place. An Arminian, that they threw their salvation away. Whatever. The Holy Spirit did not inspire this passage so that we could debate theology, but so that we would receive both the hope and the warning, and adjust our lives accordingly.
The hope is for those who have already fallen; you can return. The warning is for those who are being tempted; stand firm, because you don’t know the outcome. It’s absolutely true that if I sin can repent afterward. But trusting in that plan is a deception, and a trap. Yes, I can repent, but whenever I’m thinking this, then at least for that moment, I’m not actually planning to. If I had any intention of obeying God I would do it now, not put it off until later.
I may have just stepped on some toes, but I can’t honestly say I’m sorry. It needed to be said. If I repent after I sin, I’m trusting God. If I sin now because I can repent later, I’m trusting myself. I’m trusting myself to be more obedient in the future than I am right now. And that’s not a good bet.