No Neutral Ground: The Truth About God, Sin, and Grace
Introduction
Revisionist history is the process by which historical events are altered—sometimes unintentionally, sometimes deliberately. This revision can occur due to personal bias, political agenda, cultural influence, or simply poor research. Regardless of the cause, revisionist history is remarkably common. One central reason for its prevalence is that no person approaches history with complete neutrality. Every individual brings their own presuppositions, experiences, and worldview to the table. As a result, our interpretations of the past are often colored by what we believe or want to be true, rather than what actually happened.
Consider a few examples that highlight how often history is misunderstood or misrepresented. One famous myth is that Paul Revere rode through the night shouting, “The British are coming! The British are coming!” In reality, Revere would not have said this—most colonists at the time still considered themselves British. Instead, he warned that “The Regulars are on their way.” Furthermore, Revere never completed his ride; he was arrested before reaching his final destination. Another rider—often unnamed—carried on and delivered the warning.
Take the Civil War as another example. Many people today believe the war was fought solely to end slavery. While the abolition of slavery became a profound and transformative result of the war, it was not the primary cause. The war was ignited by a complex struggle over states' rights, economic interests, and political power. The narrative that simplifies it to a single cause is a reflection of revisionist tendencies that seek to reshape history in light of contemporary values.
Revisionist history isn’t just a problem in textbooks or public memory—it also affects how we view ourselves and God. When God moves in our lives, He reorients our understanding of truth. He confronts our tendency to revise history—especially our own spiritual history—to suit our pride, pain, or perspective. With God, we are invited to stop telling a distorted story and instead embrace the truth as He reveals it.
This is beautifully illustrated in the book of Nehemiah. After the Israelites return from exile, they gather to hear God’s Word read aloud. As the truth of Scripture is proclaimed, the people recognize how they have misunderstood and misrepresented their past. They confess their sins and the sins of their ancestors, acknowledging how they had reshaped their history to fit their own desires. Instead of clinging to a version of God they had imagined, they embraced Him for who He truly is—a God of mercy, justice, and faithfulness.
Spiritual growth often begins when we stop editing the story and start submitting to the Author. When we surrender our narratives—both personal and historical—to God's truth, we are freed to see with clarity and live with integrity. The past no longer has to be something we manipulate, but something we learn from as we walk in the light of who God really is.
Remember Who God Is
Neutrality is a myth—especially when it comes to matters of faith. Many people convince themselves that they can pick and choose what they want to believe about God, ignoring the parts of Scripture that challenge or confront them. They may say they believe in God, even worship Him, but if that worship is based on a version of God that they’ve shaped to fit their own preferences, it is not directed toward the true and living God. The truth is stark: we are either worshiping the God of the Bible, or we are worshiping a god we’ve created in our own image. There is no neutral ground.
The Israelites came to this same realization. In the book of Nehemiah, after hearing the Law read aloud, they remembered who the true God is—not the god they had crafted in their rebellion, but the LORD who had revealed Himself through mighty acts, covenant promises, and steadfast love.
In Nehemiah 9:6, they recall that He alone is the LORD. He is the sovereign Creator, the One who made the heavens, the earth, the seas, and all that is in them. Everything belongs to Him, and every living thing is sustained by His ongoing power. This is not a distant deity or a passive force, but a present, ruling, and active God.
Then in verse 7, they remember how God graciously initiated a relationship with them. They didn’t find Him—He called them. He chose Abraham, changed his name, and made a covenant with him and his descendants. The God of the Bible is not one we discover through effort or intellect; He reveals Himself by grace. As Paul writes in Ephesians 1:4, “Even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him.” God always makes the first move.
In verses 9–15, they recount God’s power to redeem and provide. He saw their suffering in Egypt, rescued them with signs and wonders, parted the sea, and destroyed their enemies. He led them with a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. He gave them His Law to guide them and provided bread from heaven and water from the rock. His care was both spiritual and physical, both present and sustaining.
What changed was their view of God—they remembered Him for who He actually is. But that clarity is rare. Throughout history, many have claimed to know and serve God while, in reality, following a false image of Him.
Consider the Apostle Paul. Before his conversion, he was Saul—a devout Pharisee convinced he was honoring God by persecuting Christians. He believed he was defending God’s honor, yet he was opposing the very Messiah God had sent. In Acts 9:4–5, we read: “And falling to the ground, he heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’ And he said, ‘Who are you, Lord?’ And he said, ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.’” Saul believed he was serving God, but in truth, he was serving a god of his own design—one that could not tolerate grace or the crucified Christ.
This raises an important and sobering question: If the risen Christ revealed Himself to us today, would we recognize Him? Or would we, like Saul, have to ask, “Who are you, Lord?”
The God of the Bible is not a vague spiritual force or a divine reflection of our desires. He is holy, just, merciful, and sovereign. And He does not conform to us—we are called to conform to Him. True worship begins when we lay down our false images of God and surrender to the One who has revealed Himself through Scripture, through Christ, and through the power of the Holy Spirit.
Remember the Wickedness of Sin
When we begin to see God rightly, we also begin to see sin rightly. A proper understanding of who God is—His holiness, righteousness, and majesty—will inevitably produce a proper understanding of the utter wickedness of sin. Sin is not a small mistake or a minor moral slip. It is rebellion against a holy God. It is cosmic treason. Let us never forget: sin is so wicked that the sinless Son of God had to die to atone for it. Jesus, though perfectly righteous, bore the punishment for sin as if He were guilty. That is the price of sin. That is how serious it is.
When the Spirit moved among the people in Nehemiah’s day, the Israelites were awakened to just how grievous their sin had been. They stopped justifying it. They stopped sugarcoating it. Instead, they confessed it plainly. Look at how they described themselves in their own words:
Sin is always wicked. It never becomes less offensive with time. We must resist the lie that grace makes sin less serious. God's grace is not a license to sin—it is the very reason we should take sin even more seriously. Grace cost Jesus His life. When we begin to think lightly of sin, we begin to think lightly of the cross.
We often fall into the trap of presuming upon God’s grace. We assume that because God has been patient and merciful in the past, He will continue to overlook our rebellion. But this is a dangerous mindset. As R.C. Sproul once illustrated in his seminary classroom, grace that is presumed becomes expectation, and expectation quickly leads to entitlement.
At the beginning of each semester, Sproul would inform his students that three major papers would determine their entire grade—one due at the end of September, another in October, and the final in November. He made it clear: no late papers would be accepted. But inevitably, when the first deadline approached, a few students missed it and pleaded for grace. He granted it, deducting a small penalty. The same happened in October. By November, those same students failed to turn in their work again, assuming they’d receive the same leniency. But this time, Sproul enforced the original policy: no late papers accepted. The students cried, “That’s not fair!” His response was powerful: “I gave you grace before—you assumed it would continue. But now you’ve abused it.”
That is what we do when we take God’s grace for granted. We presume upon His mercy, and we lighten the weight of our sin. But sin is never light. It always carries weight. And if we persist in disregarding that, we should not be surprised when we begin to feel the heavy hand of God’s discipline in our lives.
Don’t turn in a late paper and then get angry when God doesn’t respond the way He has before. He is not mocked. He is merciful, yes—but He is also just. And His discipline is an act of love meant to restore our reverence, realign our hearts, and renew our view of sin in light of His holiness.
Remember God’s Mercy
When you truly see God—and see yourself in the light of His holy character—you begin to appreciate and love His mercy in a whole new way. Mercy isn’t just a nice idea or a comforting word; it is the heart of God revealed toward sinners like you and me. One of my favorite songs captures this beautifully:
Your mercy, Your mercy
I stand before my King
And I bow my heart to sing
You saved me, You raised me
You died so I could live
No greater love than this
Your mercy
But here’s the truth: you can’t really understand mercy until you understand the true wickedness of sin. Mercy is only meaningful against the backdrop of guilt and judgment. Without a full grasp of sin’s weight, mercy can easily become just a vague or sentimental idea.
The Israelites, when they were moved by the Spirit, remembered both the wickedness of their sin and the overflowing mercy of God. They confessed how they had stubbornly refused to obey, how they were unmindful of God’s mighty works, and how they even “appointed a leader to return to their slavery in Egypt.” Yet, despite all this rebellion, they remembered God as “ready to forgive, gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love,” who “did not forsake them” (Nehemiah 9:17).
They recalled how God’s mercies were evident in their wilderness journey: “In your great mercies you did not forsake them in the wilderness. The pillar of cloud to lead them by day, and the pillar of fire by night, did not depart from them” (Nehemiah 9:19).
They also remembered the cycle of their sin and God’s mercy: “After they had rest, they did evil again, and you abandoned them to the hand of their enemies. Yet when they turned and cried to you, you heard from heaven and many times delivered them according to your mercies” (Nehemiah 9:28).
And again, “Nevertheless, in your great mercies, you did not make an end of them or forsake them, for you are a gracious and merciful God” (Nehemiah 9:31).
The story of God’s redemption of His people is, at its core, a story of relentless, patient mercy. This mercy is remarkable—undeserved and freely given. But my friends, this mercy is not to be presumed upon lightly. To presume on God’s mercy—to take it for granted—is dangerous. It stores up wrath against ourselves for the day of judgment.
The Apostle Paul warns us with sobering clarity in Romans 2:
“Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things. We know that the judgment of God rightly falls on those who practice such things. Do you suppose, O man—you who judge those who practice such things and yet do them yourself—that you will escape the judgment of God? Or do you presume on the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowing that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance? But because of your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath when God’s righteous judgment will be revealed” (Romans 2:1–5).
God’s mercy calls us to repentance, not presumption. It humbles us and draws us closer to Him, recognizing that apart from His mercy, we have no hope. When we see ourselves rightly and see God rightly, we will bow in awe and gratitude for the mercy that has saved us.
Conclusion
Understanding who God truly is—and seeing ourselves honestly in light of His holiness—changes everything. It shatters the illusion of neutrality, exposes the wickedness of sin, and reveals the overwhelming mercy that God extends to sinners like us. Revisionist history distorts our view of the past, but spiritual revisionism—reshaping God and ourselves to fit our preferences—is far more dangerous. Only when we embrace the true God of the Bible, acknowledge our sinfulness, and humbly receive His mercy can we begin to live in genuine freedom and faithfulness.
The danger of revisionism, whether historical or spiritual, lies in its power to deceive. It blinds us to the reality of God’s righteous judgment and the seriousness of sin, causing us to settle for a comfortable but false understanding of God’s character. But Scripture calls us to repentance—an honest turning from self-deception toward the truth. The Israelites’ confession reminds us that no matter how often we stray, God’s mercy remains available for those who turn back to Him with sincere hearts.
As we reflect on God’s mercy, we are also reminded of the responsibility it carries. Mercy is not an excuse to continue in sin or to take God’s grace lightly. Instead, it is the foundation for a life marked by gratitude, obedience, and transformation. When we grasp the cost of our redemption—that Christ bore the penalty for our sins—we cannot help but respond with awe and worship.
Finally, this understanding invites us into deeper relationship with God. Knowing His mercy changes how we view ourselves—not as slaves to sin or shame, but as beloved children redeemed and restored. It also shapes how we relate to others, calling us to extend grace and forgiveness just as we have received it. In a world hungry for truth and love, the story of God’s justice and mercy offers hope and a firm foundation on which to build our lives.
May we reject the lies of false neutrality and revisionism, stand firmly on the truth of God’s Word, and rest daily in His steadfast love and mercy. Let us live not by our own distorted stories, but by the true story of a God who redeems, restores, and reigns forever.
Revisionist history is the process by which historical events are altered—sometimes unintentionally, sometimes deliberately. This revision can occur due to personal bias, political agenda, cultural influence, or simply poor research. Regardless of the cause, revisionist history is remarkably common. One central reason for its prevalence is that no person approaches history with complete neutrality. Every individual brings their own presuppositions, experiences, and worldview to the table. As a result, our interpretations of the past are often colored by what we believe or want to be true, rather than what actually happened.
Consider a few examples that highlight how often history is misunderstood or misrepresented. One famous myth is that Paul Revere rode through the night shouting, “The British are coming! The British are coming!” In reality, Revere would not have said this—most colonists at the time still considered themselves British. Instead, he warned that “The Regulars are on their way.” Furthermore, Revere never completed his ride; he was arrested before reaching his final destination. Another rider—often unnamed—carried on and delivered the warning.
Take the Civil War as another example. Many people today believe the war was fought solely to end slavery. While the abolition of slavery became a profound and transformative result of the war, it was not the primary cause. The war was ignited by a complex struggle over states' rights, economic interests, and political power. The narrative that simplifies it to a single cause is a reflection of revisionist tendencies that seek to reshape history in light of contemporary values.
Revisionist history isn’t just a problem in textbooks or public memory—it also affects how we view ourselves and God. When God moves in our lives, He reorients our understanding of truth. He confronts our tendency to revise history—especially our own spiritual history—to suit our pride, pain, or perspective. With God, we are invited to stop telling a distorted story and instead embrace the truth as He reveals it.
This is beautifully illustrated in the book of Nehemiah. After the Israelites return from exile, they gather to hear God’s Word read aloud. As the truth of Scripture is proclaimed, the people recognize how they have misunderstood and misrepresented their past. They confess their sins and the sins of their ancestors, acknowledging how they had reshaped their history to fit their own desires. Instead of clinging to a version of God they had imagined, they embraced Him for who He truly is—a God of mercy, justice, and faithfulness.
Spiritual growth often begins when we stop editing the story and start submitting to the Author. When we surrender our narratives—both personal and historical—to God's truth, we are freed to see with clarity and live with integrity. The past no longer has to be something we manipulate, but something we learn from as we walk in the light of who God really is.
Remember Who God Is
Neutrality is a myth—especially when it comes to matters of faith. Many people convince themselves that they can pick and choose what they want to believe about God, ignoring the parts of Scripture that challenge or confront them. They may say they believe in God, even worship Him, but if that worship is based on a version of God that they’ve shaped to fit their own preferences, it is not directed toward the true and living God. The truth is stark: we are either worshiping the God of the Bible, or we are worshiping a god we’ve created in our own image. There is no neutral ground.
The Israelites came to this same realization. In the book of Nehemiah, after hearing the Law read aloud, they remembered who the true God is—not the god they had crafted in their rebellion, but the LORD who had revealed Himself through mighty acts, covenant promises, and steadfast love.
In Nehemiah 9:6, they recall that He alone is the LORD. He is the sovereign Creator, the One who made the heavens, the earth, the seas, and all that is in them. Everything belongs to Him, and every living thing is sustained by His ongoing power. This is not a distant deity or a passive force, but a present, ruling, and active God.
Then in verse 7, they remember how God graciously initiated a relationship with them. They didn’t find Him—He called them. He chose Abraham, changed his name, and made a covenant with him and his descendants. The God of the Bible is not one we discover through effort or intellect; He reveals Himself by grace. As Paul writes in Ephesians 1:4, “Even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him.” God always makes the first move.
In verses 9–15, they recount God’s power to redeem and provide. He saw their suffering in Egypt, rescued them with signs and wonders, parted the sea, and destroyed their enemies. He led them with a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. He gave them His Law to guide them and provided bread from heaven and water from the rock. His care was both spiritual and physical, both present and sustaining.
What changed was their view of God—they remembered Him for who He actually is. But that clarity is rare. Throughout history, many have claimed to know and serve God while, in reality, following a false image of Him.
Consider the Apostle Paul. Before his conversion, he was Saul—a devout Pharisee convinced he was honoring God by persecuting Christians. He believed he was defending God’s honor, yet he was opposing the very Messiah God had sent. In Acts 9:4–5, we read: “And falling to the ground, he heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’ And he said, ‘Who are you, Lord?’ And he said, ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.’” Saul believed he was serving God, but in truth, he was serving a god of his own design—one that could not tolerate grace or the crucified Christ.
This raises an important and sobering question: If the risen Christ revealed Himself to us today, would we recognize Him? Or would we, like Saul, have to ask, “Who are you, Lord?”
The God of the Bible is not a vague spiritual force or a divine reflection of our desires. He is holy, just, merciful, and sovereign. And He does not conform to us—we are called to conform to Him. True worship begins when we lay down our false images of God and surrender to the One who has revealed Himself through Scripture, through Christ, and through the power of the Holy Spirit.
Remember the Wickedness of Sin
When we begin to see God rightly, we also begin to see sin rightly. A proper understanding of who God is—His holiness, righteousness, and majesty—will inevitably produce a proper understanding of the utter wickedness of sin. Sin is not a small mistake or a minor moral slip. It is rebellion against a holy God. It is cosmic treason. Let us never forget: sin is so wicked that the sinless Son of God had to die to atone for it. Jesus, though perfectly righteous, bore the punishment for sin as if He were guilty. That is the price of sin. That is how serious it is.
When the Spirit moved among the people in Nehemiah’s day, the Israelites were awakened to just how grievous their sin had been. They stopped justifying it. They stopped sugarcoating it. Instead, they confessed it plainly. Look at how they described themselves in their own words:
- Nehemiah 9:16 – “They stiffened their neck.”
- Verse 26 – “They cast your law behind their back.”
- Verse 29 – “They turned a stubborn shoulder.”
- Verse 30 – “They would not give ear.”
Sin is always wicked. It never becomes less offensive with time. We must resist the lie that grace makes sin less serious. God's grace is not a license to sin—it is the very reason we should take sin even more seriously. Grace cost Jesus His life. When we begin to think lightly of sin, we begin to think lightly of the cross.
We often fall into the trap of presuming upon God’s grace. We assume that because God has been patient and merciful in the past, He will continue to overlook our rebellion. But this is a dangerous mindset. As R.C. Sproul once illustrated in his seminary classroom, grace that is presumed becomes expectation, and expectation quickly leads to entitlement.
At the beginning of each semester, Sproul would inform his students that three major papers would determine their entire grade—one due at the end of September, another in October, and the final in November. He made it clear: no late papers would be accepted. But inevitably, when the first deadline approached, a few students missed it and pleaded for grace. He granted it, deducting a small penalty. The same happened in October. By November, those same students failed to turn in their work again, assuming they’d receive the same leniency. But this time, Sproul enforced the original policy: no late papers accepted. The students cried, “That’s not fair!” His response was powerful: “I gave you grace before—you assumed it would continue. But now you’ve abused it.”
That is what we do when we take God’s grace for granted. We presume upon His mercy, and we lighten the weight of our sin. But sin is never light. It always carries weight. And if we persist in disregarding that, we should not be surprised when we begin to feel the heavy hand of God’s discipline in our lives.
Don’t turn in a late paper and then get angry when God doesn’t respond the way He has before. He is not mocked. He is merciful, yes—but He is also just. And His discipline is an act of love meant to restore our reverence, realign our hearts, and renew our view of sin in light of His holiness.
Remember God’s Mercy
When you truly see God—and see yourself in the light of His holy character—you begin to appreciate and love His mercy in a whole new way. Mercy isn’t just a nice idea or a comforting word; it is the heart of God revealed toward sinners like you and me. One of my favorite songs captures this beautifully:
Your mercy, Your mercy
I stand before my King
And I bow my heart to sing
You saved me, You raised me
You died so I could live
No greater love than this
Your mercy
But here’s the truth: you can’t really understand mercy until you understand the true wickedness of sin. Mercy is only meaningful against the backdrop of guilt and judgment. Without a full grasp of sin’s weight, mercy can easily become just a vague or sentimental idea.
The Israelites, when they were moved by the Spirit, remembered both the wickedness of their sin and the overflowing mercy of God. They confessed how they had stubbornly refused to obey, how they were unmindful of God’s mighty works, and how they even “appointed a leader to return to their slavery in Egypt.” Yet, despite all this rebellion, they remembered God as “ready to forgive, gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love,” who “did not forsake them” (Nehemiah 9:17).
They recalled how God’s mercies were evident in their wilderness journey: “In your great mercies you did not forsake them in the wilderness. The pillar of cloud to lead them by day, and the pillar of fire by night, did not depart from them” (Nehemiah 9:19).
They also remembered the cycle of their sin and God’s mercy: “After they had rest, they did evil again, and you abandoned them to the hand of their enemies. Yet when they turned and cried to you, you heard from heaven and many times delivered them according to your mercies” (Nehemiah 9:28).
And again, “Nevertheless, in your great mercies, you did not make an end of them or forsake them, for you are a gracious and merciful God” (Nehemiah 9:31).
The story of God’s redemption of His people is, at its core, a story of relentless, patient mercy. This mercy is remarkable—undeserved and freely given. But my friends, this mercy is not to be presumed upon lightly. To presume on God’s mercy—to take it for granted—is dangerous. It stores up wrath against ourselves for the day of judgment.
The Apostle Paul warns us with sobering clarity in Romans 2:
“Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things. We know that the judgment of God rightly falls on those who practice such things. Do you suppose, O man—you who judge those who practice such things and yet do them yourself—that you will escape the judgment of God? Or do you presume on the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowing that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance? But because of your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath when God’s righteous judgment will be revealed” (Romans 2:1–5).
God’s mercy calls us to repentance, not presumption. It humbles us and draws us closer to Him, recognizing that apart from His mercy, we have no hope. When we see ourselves rightly and see God rightly, we will bow in awe and gratitude for the mercy that has saved us.
Conclusion
Understanding who God truly is—and seeing ourselves honestly in light of His holiness—changes everything. It shatters the illusion of neutrality, exposes the wickedness of sin, and reveals the overwhelming mercy that God extends to sinners like us. Revisionist history distorts our view of the past, but spiritual revisionism—reshaping God and ourselves to fit our preferences—is far more dangerous. Only when we embrace the true God of the Bible, acknowledge our sinfulness, and humbly receive His mercy can we begin to live in genuine freedom and faithfulness.
The danger of revisionism, whether historical or spiritual, lies in its power to deceive. It blinds us to the reality of God’s righteous judgment and the seriousness of sin, causing us to settle for a comfortable but false understanding of God’s character. But Scripture calls us to repentance—an honest turning from self-deception toward the truth. The Israelites’ confession reminds us that no matter how often we stray, God’s mercy remains available for those who turn back to Him with sincere hearts.
As we reflect on God’s mercy, we are also reminded of the responsibility it carries. Mercy is not an excuse to continue in sin or to take God’s grace lightly. Instead, it is the foundation for a life marked by gratitude, obedience, and transformation. When we grasp the cost of our redemption—that Christ bore the penalty for our sins—we cannot help but respond with awe and worship.
Finally, this understanding invites us into deeper relationship with God. Knowing His mercy changes how we view ourselves—not as slaves to sin or shame, but as beloved children redeemed and restored. It also shapes how we relate to others, calling us to extend grace and forgiveness just as we have received it. In a world hungry for truth and love, the story of God’s justice and mercy offers hope and a firm foundation on which to build our lives.
May we reject the lies of false neutrality and revisionism, stand firmly on the truth of God’s Word, and rest daily in His steadfast love and mercy. Let us live not by our own distorted stories, but by the true story of a God who redeems, restores, and reigns forever.
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