“For
the ear tests words as the palate tastes food”—and having heard one too many
Christians quote John the Baptist’s words: “He must increase, but I must
decrease”—I came to realize their misuse
or misunderstanding of these words in light of other words spoken concerning
the Christian (Job 34:3 and John 3:30 respectively, NASB). Christ
declared concerning John: “Truly I say to you, among those born of women there
has not arisen anyone greater than John the Baptist! Yet the one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he” (Matthew 11:11, emphasis
mine, NASB).
John was filled with the
Holy Ghost while still in his mother’s womb, but became, in adulthood—at the
zenith of his life—the friend of the bridegroom (and not part of the bride which is comprised
of all born again believers). And born
again believers are distinctly those who came alive in Christ after His death and resurrection happened. The greatest born of women is an appropriate
term for John, but if it is a moniker we wear, we miss the mark.
Certainly, all those who are
born-again are of necessity also born first (and, of course, from a woman), but
not all that are born of women become born-again. The pinnacle natural and limited man cannot
reach the ground or premise of the spiritual and illimited one. But the Christian is foundationally and
fundamentally different from the natural man; the rule of his new creation is a
reign from another world—one in which God is the light without a shadow of
turning and Adam simply the black backdrop from which God shines forth.
Increasing and decreasing
are gray concepts shrouded in mystery; reality, however, is black and/or white,
dark and/or light. God, of course, is
the ultimate reality, and He casts no shadows, has no inverted gravities, no
twisted or bent lights, and shines perpetually at a magnitude no star could
ever sustain.
We cannot allow our
limitations to pervert or misinterpret what little we see or understand; our
context is far too narrow to see the real height, depth, and breadth of
anything. We must die and He must live
is an all or nothing black and white stance which allows no degrees of
increasing and decreasing. Freemasonry—for
an example—is all about degrees of light, and they are a false religion. Likewise, all manmade religions are about
degrees and are therefore false by reason of mixture and impurity.
True Christianity is death
to self and the image of Christ resurrected and inserted where once self
animated us; Christ in us, “the hope of glory,” the rule of the new creation
disposition in us, is an all or nothing stance and rule (Colossians 1:27,
partial, NASB). Though our capacity, or Christ
within us, grows larger and larger as we mature in Him, it is not an increasing
and decreasing thing; it is only an
increasing thing. The second Adam lives
and grows within the empty space the first Adam left behind when it was
displaced by the regeneration process; the first Adam is dead and can therefore
no longer pulsate or ebb and flow with life (in other words, it can no longer
increase and/or decrease). From the
inception of our rebirth we are seated in the Heavenlies, but many fail to realize this except by degrees (thus many
Christians are duped into thinking it ought to be by degrees since their
experience proves they awoke incrementally rather than all at once).
Capacity, however, is
increased only by growth of the seed of Christ within our spirit outward into
our soul; it displaces the old nature which hangs dead and dark around it. Thus, Christ, the full breadth of light (even
while yet in infancy), matures and widens his beam of the fullness of the
breadth of light within our wholly darkened heart. As He matures within us, from seed to full
revelation, the light shining out of darkness increases its scope and decreases
our frame; nevertheless, all light is His and all dark is ours (thus increasing
and decreasing are relative terms only useful for limited perspectives). An eclipse might hide the sun from someone’s
perspective, but the sun was never lost nor did it ever leave off shining. A perspective is but a rivet holding a
cogwheel that turns the entire machinery; integral and essential, but
incidental to the overarching purpose that will always remain unclear if the
rivet becomes and/or remains the focal point.