“He saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to His own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit” (Titus 3:5).
Looking to move up? Wanting to climb that corporate ladder? Hoping grab that dream job? If there’s one thing you have to have, that’s a great resume. You want a document that’s absolutely chockfull of impressive jobs and awards. It’s the ultimate humble brag. Well, I really don’t want to pat myself on the back, but I have racked up quite a career, haven’t I? A great resume is a huge deal EXCEPT when it comes to our salvation. Paul makes it clear to his buddy Titus that our spiritual work history actually has nothing to do with God saving us. “He saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to His own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit” (v5). When it comes to our rescue resume, we bring nothing to the table. Zilch. Zip. Zero.
In case you haven’t been paying attention, the apostle reminds us once again that we didn’t do the saving. “He saved us” (v5). “He” is God. Check back inn the previous verse and you’ll see that He’s “God our Savior” (Titus 3:4). As our Savior, God saved us. It’s just what a Savior does. Come to the rescue. Both these terms come from the same Greek root word sozo. It means to rescue, keep safe, deliver from danger, preserve from harm, and bring to safety. The writers of the New Testament use this term in more ways than spiritual salvation. When the ship carrying Paul and Luke was being ripped apart by a massive Cat 5 hurricane, the good doctor wrote, “All hope of our being saved (Gr. sozo) was at last abandoned” (Acts 27:20). In those final days before He would be tortured and executed, Jesus begged His Dad to come to His rescue. “Father, save (Gr. sozo) Me from this hour” (Jn 12:27).
When danger is on the doorstep, we desperately need someone to come to the rescue. That is certainly the case when it comes to our spiritual state. I can’t save myself. That’s where Jesus comes in. He does for me what I could never dream of doing for myself. Paul tells his friends in Rome that because God poured out His fury on Jesus for our sin, we’re “saved (Gr. sozo) by Him from the wrath of God” (Rom 5:9). Christ saves me out of His overflowing goodness. “By grace you have been saved (Gr. sozo)” (Eph 2:5).
So why did Jesus save me? What did I bring to the game? Certainly there’s something in His scouting report of me that made me stand out. There’s gotta be something cool that I’ve done that earns me some brownie points. There must be something on the old spiritual resume that tips the scales in my direction. Not so much. Paul goes out of his way to let us know what did NOT do the trick. “He saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness” (v5). In other words, Paul says in no uncertain terms, “Sorry, big boy. You bring nothing to the table.” Jesus didn’t come to my rescue because I went to church every Sunday (because I didn’t). He didn’t rescue me because I’ve memorized a boatload of Bible (because I didn’t). He didn’t rescue me because followed all the rules (because I didn’t). Was it all the serving that I’ve done? And there’s no reason to even bring up tithing, is there?
The apostle goes around his butt to get to his elbow to make it clear what DIDN’T save me. My righteous works. My good deeds. My rule following. If I think adding these to my resume impresses God, I’m just fooling myself. It can’t be based on me pulling myself up from my own bootstraps. Remember who I was when God came to my rescue. Fool, rebel, dupe, slave bully, hater (Titus 3:3). That’s not exactly the resume that jumps to the stack. That’s not exactly the kind of guy who can save himself. Even if I could pile up an impressive looking resume, God makes it clear that I’m wasting my time. “All our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment” (Is 64:6). I hesitate to tell you what “polluted garment” really means. The translators of the ESV have spared us from this incredibly disgusting comparison. Let’s just say that anything good that I try to do to earn my way into God’s good graces is like a feminine hygiene product that’s already been used. Do I really need to be more specific? That’s how vile and revolting my good works are when it comes to saving myself. So when it comes to my righteous deeds, let’s just leave those off the rescue resume.
Now that I know what didn’t save me, Paul lets me know what did. It was “according to His own mercy” (v5). Many times we think of mercy as someone not getting the punishment they really deserve. But the Greek word eleos certainly describes that kind of mercy, it means a boatload more. Compassion. Sympathy. Pity. It paints a picture of loving kindness toward someone afflicted. Mercy is an attitude or emotion roused by somebody in serious need of help. In other words, God didn’t execute the most breathtaking search and rescue mission the universe has ever witnessed because we were such hot stuff. As a matter of fact, it’s completely the opposite. He took one look at the awful situation we had gotten ourselves into and it broke His heart. He overflowed with compassion at our desperation.
The writers of the Bible have a LOT to say about the mercy of God. His merciful touch is gentle. After his boy was born, John the Dunker’s dad Zechariah sang about “the tender mercy (Gr. eleos) of our God” (Lk 1:78). The wealthy One who owns the cattle on a thousand hillsides is also “rich in mercy (Gr. eleos)” (Eph 2:4). And His mercy isn’t wimpy. “According to His great mercy (Gr. eleos), He has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1Pet 1:3). Think mega-mercy. Just like Jesus’ heart went out to the people because they had no shepherd (Mk 6:34), He had compassion on you and me when we were caught between the eternal rock and a hard place. His heart broke. And He did something about it. Christ came to our rescue despite our resume.
So we know that God saved us when we couldn’t save ourselves. We know that there’s nothing we can put on our spiritual resume to guarantee our rescue. And we know that Jesus saved our bacon out of His spectacular mega-mercy. Now I see that I didn’t have to clean myself up before He was willing to save me. I didn’t have to get my crap together before He was willing to save me. God handles that “by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit” (v5). He puts me under the waterfall of His grace for an experience that changes me forever. The Greek word for regeneration literally mans “Genesis again.” His Spirit scrubs us so clean of sin that it’s like we’re hanging out with Adam and Eve before the infamous Incident at the Apple Tree. If that’s not cool enough, God’s Spirit makes us brand spanking new. This isn’t Extreme Jay Makeover Holy Spirit Edition. The original language points to something unprecedented. Something never seen before. Something new. What we were before and did before simply doesn’t matter once God gets His holy hands on us. We can forget the rescue resume.
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