2 Corinthians 7:1 is a handy, go-to verse for someone looking for a Reformed view of sanctification. In the Legacy Standard Bible (LSB), it reads:
“Therefore, having these promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from all defilement of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God.”
The first order of business is to remember (with thanksgiving) what we have received. Here, those are the promises. To put a finer point on it, we have received Gospel promises. This is what Paul has just rehearsed in the preceding verses in chapter 6. Through Christ, we have become God’s people, and he has become our God. He has graciously called us sons and daughters. Jesus has made us family.
This comes first. We have come to the Lord by faith and been saved. Paul is not writing to an unsaved community, but to one that recently demonstrated its zeal for obeying God. They are the “beloved,” the undeserving objects of God’s electing love.
After that first, vital thing has been taken care of, received by faith alone, then the phrase “let us” appears. Gospel promises precede Christian commands. Having received, my brothers, now we must do. Salvation first, then Sanctification.
Let us … cleanse ourselves. Now, Reformed theology has traditionally made a point of highlighting the work of the Holy Spirit in the ongoing process of sanctification. We don’t think we “cleanse ourselves” strictly by ourselves, but through the power and leadership of the Spirit of Jesus.
That said, and honestly believed, we do still insist that we need to be encouraged to keep making decisions in that direction. That does need to be our chosen goal. We don’t cleanse. There is only one who does (1 John 1:9). But we keep showing up (on purpose) at the throne of grace. We keep showing up, begging for daily bread. Although God alone can keep cleansing us, this does not absolve us of duty or effort. Paul’s point here is that the remembrance of his goodness toward us in Christ should motivate us.
Paul mentions cleansing from defilement in both body (flesh) and spirit. This is likely a reference to the insidious Gnosticism which was already seeking to attach like a parasite to the Body of Christ. One strain of Gnosticism believed that sins committed “outside the body” were of no consequence. It was only heart attitudes and inward thoughts that mattered.
It would mesh well later with 21st-century evangelicalism, which proposes that your words and actions don’t matter so much as long as your heart is clean before God. It raises the question: if it’s out of the heart the mouth speaks, why is your righteous heart speaking wickedness out of your mouth all the time?
We’re supposed to be “perfecting holiness” here and now. Yes, of course, true perfection won’t come until we’re looking Jesus right in his eyes again. But the admonition is to move in that direction now. We will all be changed on that last day, but the goal is to minimize the size of the change that is needed: we should be more and more fitted for heaven as we go along. We’re supposed to be progressively conformed to his image, even before he arrives to add the last touches.
Holiness is a big deal. We’re not talking about the holiness of Christ which was imputed to our account the moment we first believed. We’re talking about everyday, practical, boots-on-the-ground, living-it-out sort of devotion to the Lord’s service.
The previous paragraph fairly demands that I define holiness. I don’t have a dress code in mind or a hairstyle. Cover your naughty bits, make use of some shampoo, and join us in church on Sunday. And, y’know what, if you don’t have shampoo, join us anyway. We can get you stuff like that. When I think of what holiness looks like, I think of Micah 6:8: Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God. Major on the majors, like loving God and your neighbor, as defined by the commandments of God and the example of Christ. Get that stuff hammered into place, and then we can talk about the type of church music you prefer or the length of your shirt sleeves.
We’re supposed to do all this “in the fear of God.” It is true that the Gospel love of Jesus for all of his people should cast out any carnal fear of punishment. If you’re still worried God’s gonna come getcha, you need to rethink the Gospel. I’m not sure you know it right. Paul’s clearly not talking about a fear of Hell.
There is an appropriate sort of fear that Christians should have: the fear of failing him, when he has done so much for us. The fear of acting in ways that betray him and disappoint the people around us, especially the ones we’re supposed to be discipling. The fear of meeting up with Christ on that day and hearing something other than, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”
In sum, 2 Corinthians 7:1 encapsulates a lot of solid truth about the work of sanctification. It flows out of our salvation: it doesn’t earn it or maintain it. It’s a work we’re supposed to actively seek. We don’t lie back and wait for it to happen by magic, though we must have God’s supernatural aid as we seek it.
Our holiness should be practical and real. Can we live and interact with messy people in a dirty world without getting it all over us? It should be more than looking like church people. Salt and light, I think One has said. It boils down the way Solomon boiled it down: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the end of the matter for all mankind (Ecclesiastes 12:13).