It can be said there is a very specific kind of anxiety that comes from never feeling fully secure. And this, of course, is meant in the context of understanding the nature of our relationship with God. To begin by example, let’s put it into a picture we can all visualize, and think for a second the relationship between a child and his father. When can picture one side on the coin, the father is a loving, kind father—the one we all want, and the one we expect him to be. That’s the father we see. But then, there’s the flip side. On the other side of the coin, the father can be demanding; he can even be harsh. He wants it his way, or the highway. And really, it can be pretty unpleasant at times. So, that’s the dynamic. You have the loving father, but you also have the negative, punishing father. If Dad is nice today, the child is happy. But if Dad is mean today? The child is paralyzed by anxiety. They might actually have to run and hide behind a piece of furniture. In that second scenario, the child has to live in a ‘performance mindset’ because, quite simply, they have no security.

       Truly, just like a child with a father, the belief is present that our security in our relationship with God is of big importance. That’s the foundation. If we don’t feel secure in our relationship with Him, we’re going to have a really hard time relating to Him. We won’t trust Him. When push comes to shove, we won't believe that He actually wants the best for us or has our best interests at heart. We might even start to feel like He’s against us—that He’s covertly, or even openly, doing things against us just to 'make us grow.' It creates this dualistic view of God where, on one hand, He’s our friend, but on the other, it feels like He cares more about Himself than He does about us. That’s saying it bluntly, but that’s what that kind of insecurity actually means.

       Anyway, the point is, we need to have security in God. And it seems just as important to have security in the idea that we are saved once and for all from our sins—that we have a solid foundation for the future. We don’t want to be constantly worried about where we’ll end up in eternity when we die. And that’s an important thing to know, isn't it? Where are we going? Look, death is lurking at the door. It surrounds us. If we're being honest, it could happen at any time. Most of us ride in cars every day, and we know people die in cars every day. That’s a reality of life. Life is fragile, and that fragility technically surrounds us every day. So, we should want to know where we are headed.

       Thankfully, we have the foundation of this in the doctrine of eternal security. It really boils down to a goal: the difference between living in a state of continual anxiety versus living in a state of freedom and safety. Now, this is a doctrine we hold as Evangelical Christians, and it’s one that not every Christian sect holds, let alone the general public. While these are deep theological waters, it’s helpful to look at where these ideas started. To be clear, even if you don't agree with this person's perspective on other things, it was John Calvin who first really developed the idea of what we call 'eternal security'—or 'once saved, always saved.' And just like St. Augustine, Calvin didn’t get everything wrong. You might assume this doctrine came from Martin Luther because he was the first to break away from the Roman Catholic Church, but he actually didn’t believe in eternal security; he believed a true Christian could indeed fall away. That’s a position a lot of people hold because they don't want to downplay the importance of staying true to God, or of falling away.

       But if we stick with that idea for a second—the idea that you can lose your salvation by doing wrong things, or just choosing to give it up—what are the problems with this? Well, if someone can lose their salvation without their will, then that doesn't really give them any security in God, does it? How is a person supposed to know if God is going to be 'nice' or 'mean'? How do they know if He’s going to allow them to keep their salvation or take it away? At that point, it’s really about the character of God. If we believe He can just take it away, then we’re almost forced into that 'performance mindset' again. We have to keep God happy because, at any moment, He might take it away. That’s a setup based on fear, not love.

       Now, of course, we could say we can 'freely' give it up. But what does that actually look like? At some point, we believed in Christianity—that Jesus came to the earth, died for our sins, and rose again—and then we don’t. Paul told the Romans, “For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his… For one who has died has been set free from sin” (Romans 6:5, 7, ESV). While people might not want to hear this, there’s truth in our decisions. If we say God cannot backtrack on an unconditional promise—that the promise must come to pass—couldn't it be that when we accept the free gift of salvation and declare Jesus as Lord, we’re making a spiritual decision that cannot be backtracked, just like God’s Word cannot be? It might be uncomfortable for some due to free will, but it seems logical from a Scriptural mindset.

       And there are things in the natural realm that back this up, too. Think about a couple deciding to have a child. That child comes into existence outside of the child’s own will (at least, as far as we know). Once that child is created and begins to grow, he or she becomes a permanent truth in the universe—that the child existed at that point in time. That can never be undone. Even if the child were to die, it will always be true that the child existed. We understand that basic logic; we feel comfortable with it because none of us wants to be forgotten. The encouraging thing here is that we can say the same about our decision to believe in Jesus. Once that decision is made, it can’t just cease to exist, just like our being a reality can't just cease to exist. It’s a truth value within the Universe, and even outside of it, in God’s realm. Choices, good or bad, have consequences—that’s just how our existence is set up.

       Think about it this way: When we believe in Jesus for the first time, we are 'given' eternal life by God. If it’s a gift, how could we 'lose' it? If we did, it wouldn't have been 'eternal' in the first place. See what’s being said here? If something is eternal at one moment, how can it become un-eternal? It either was, or it wasn't. If you think it wasn't, then you're saying eternal life doesn't start until you die—but the Bible doesn't seem to say that at all. It contradicts that. So, the mere fact that eternal life is eternal, and that we believe it now, means that by definition, it has to stay eternal. Really, if we can't say 'eternal' means 'eternal,' then what is guaranteed at all? Everything just becomes wishy-washy.

       Regardless of all this logic, what’s the foundation for this? We could look at Paul’s epistles, sure. But the foundation of eternal security appears to be really found at the beginning of the Gospel of John, where it says, “But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God” (John 1:12, 13, ESV). We see the formula here. The human being receives the Lord Jesus Christ by believing. Then, once we do that, He gives us the 'right' to become God’s personal children. We see the transition occur—from our will to God’s will. See that? John says we were born “not of... the will of man, but of God.” Therefore, we have this idea of being 'born-again.' If we are born a second time, how can we be unborn? That was the question Nicodemus asked, and it’s a fair question. The concept definitely implies a transformation.

       And that’s where our foundation of security begins. The Apostle John tells us, “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are” (1 John 3:1, ESV). That’s the point: our relationship with God is based on the foundation of love. Sure, we can base it on fear. We can try that, but the relationship probably won't last long. And even if it does last a long time because our fear is so great, then we didn’t ever ‘really’ know God, did we? We see that, don't we? People who base relationships on the wrong things, when they finally wake up to that fact, have a choice: they can choose to love that person for who they are, or they can choose to walk away because there was never real love there to begin with. But we see the heart of God in this verse—when we first believe, God immediately shows His love by calling us 'children.'

       So, we belong to God, and we are accepted by Him. John continues in 1 John 3:2: 'Beloved, we are God's children now’ (ESV). Notice that word: now. It isn’t 'later.' It’s not 'after we do enough things.' It is now. Paul put it this way to the Romans: “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” (Romans 8:15, ESV). So, we’ve been 'adopted.' In this world, is an adopted child’s position in the family based on their performance? Hopefully not. And it's the same with God. When He adopts us, He doesn’t do so pending we act a certain way. It isn’t based on fear—which, as Paul says, is what causes us to fall back into slavery. If we believed in God to free us from our sins, that’s what we want: freedom. But fear just takes us back into the same kind of slavery that the sins we brought to Him already have. It puts us right back into that 'performance mindset'—trying to earn what has already been given.

       We have forgiveness of our sins when we believe in Christ. Paul told the Ephesians: “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight” (1:7, 8, ESV). Notice that 'lavished' is in the past tense. It’s not a continual process; it’s something that has already been done. That’s not to say we won’t sin in the future—we still have our sin-natures—but the point is that we have already been forgiven. This was God’s plan for those who would freely choose to believe. And of course, just because it was His plan doesn't mean we didn't have a choice. We had the choice, and as a result, we were freely forgiven of all our sins.

       What’s really interesting about all this is that by belonging to God, we actually become just like his son, Jesus. John again tells us, '“By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world” (1 John 4:17, ESV). Now, what that actually means is that we are perfect—perfect in God’s eyes, in the sense of our standing and our status, completely without fault before him. So, it’s not just that we are his sons and daughters; it’s that we are already perfect before him. Just like Jesus is, so also are we—spotless, in a sense. And if we are perfect in our totality as a person, then how could we ever be 'un-perfect'? How could we ever lose that? Look at Jesus: he was perfect in this world, and yet he lost his life. In the same way, we can lose things. We can lose our morality, our reputations, even our very lives—but we cannot lose our status with God as his child. That remains the same.

       Why? Why does that remain the same? Well, wasn’t that what Jesus was trying to tell us, at least in part, in the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Just think about that story for a second. The son had been away from home for a long time. And the father? He missed him. He didn't view him as 'refuse' or as someone who was already condemned the moment he left. He wasn't sitting there angry. Then, much to everyone’s surprise, the son comes home. And when he does, what does the father do? He doesn’t start asking a million questions. He doesn’t scold him or treat him with shame. He actually runs out to meet him. Now, for context, back then in first-century Jewish culture, it is understood that it was really unbecoming of a man to run for anything. It was seen as undignified. But the father doesn't care about that. He’s just so happy to see his son that he runs toward him. And remember, the son had this whole speech prepared, hoping the father would accept him back—but he didn't need a speech, did he? This is that 'now' John is talking about when he says, “Beloved, we are God's children now” (1 John 3:2).

       So, we are made holy in God when we believe. And again, if we are made holy, how could we become unholy? Paul told the Christians they are “sanctified in Christ Jesus” (1 Corinthians 1:2, ESV). That’s really the state of all of us. That’s what God does the moment we first believe: all our past sins are just wiped away. They become 'whiter than snow,' as David put it in the Psalms. We all know how deep and dark sin can get—how it can stain the soul, like it did for David when he committed adultery. That was a big sin, and maybe some of us have dealt with even greater things. Yet, David asks God to make him clean. And that’s what each of us has done. It’s a one-time thing to become clean from our sins, even if we stumble afterward. It’s not some constant yo-yo where we fall out of relationship and have to come back in. This is just another part of our eternal security in Christ—the ability to be perfectly clean. And really, this leads to the next point.

       Now we come to what might be the most important idea of them all: that we are sealed by the Holy Spirit from the moment we believe. Paul tells the Corinthians, “And it is God who establishes us with you in Christ, and has anointed us, and who has also put his seal on us and given us his Spirit in our hearts as a guarantee” (2 Corinthians 1:21, ESV). This is probably the strongest argument for the idea that once we believe, we are secure. If you’re sealed, it doesn't seem like that seal can just be broken. To understand this, think of a notary. A notary’s seal on a home deed means a legal transfer has occurred. It doesn’t matter what condition the house stays in, or if you have a bad day—the deed stays the same. That’s what it’s like for us. Paul even calls this seal a 'guarantee.' We’re all pretty familiar with guarantees here in America. We know that if a brand says something is guaranteed, it means if there’s a defect, they’ll take care of it. It’s designed to free our minds from the burden of 'what if' in the future.

       We can take this 'guarantee' concept even further by looking at a job versus a marriage. When you accept a job, it’s a formula: 'If I do this work, you give me money.' It’s performance-based. If you stop working, you stop getting paid. That makes sense. But a marriage? That’s different. It’s: 'I love you, so I am giving myself to you.' It’s not based on performance. A marriage isn't supposed to end just because performance drops; it’s based on love for the long haul. That shows us how salvation is guaranteed. It’s not like the job; it’s like the marriage.

       This carries us into the fact that we are indwelled by God’s Spirit. This indwelling—the third Person of the Trinity actually living inside of us—is part of that guarantee. Now, we can’t see the Holy Spirit with our eyes, but we know his presence in our hearts. That’s how it’s supposed to work. Paul told the Romans, “The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God” (Romans 8:16, ESV). It’s something we know on the inside—something we can't necessarily prove, but we feel. And because we feel it, it means the Holy Spirit can, and does, affect our feelings at times. It has to be this way. Not everything can be perfectly logical or spelled out. Yet, God’s presence within us gives us that inner certainty as we go through life—that we do, in fact, know Him and belong to Him.

       And while God indwells us, we will also dwell with him. Paul tells the Ephesians that God “raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:6, ESV). But we have to point out first that because Jesus was raised by God’s power, we will be too when we die. For the Christian, there doesn’t have to be a fear of death. We don't have to worry about 'what happens next' because we are secure in Christ. We know that our current bodies will be transformed, our souls reunited, and we will be with God in Heaven. We won’t just be 'there'; we will be 'seated.' We will be established. We’ll have each other, we'll know each other, and we'll have all the good things that come with that. Paul finishes by saying that in the coming ages, God will show the “immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (v. 7, ESV). It’s just incredible, powerful stuff.

       But we have some of this already, right now. Paul tells the Corinthians that God has shone in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of His glory. But he also says, “But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (2 Corinthians 4:6, 7, ESV). We know our hearts were dark before we believed—for a lot of us, that’s exactly why we came to faith in the first place. Christ shined in that darkness. Now, back in the first century, 'jars' would be like the Tupperware of our day. But they were susceptible to breaking. That’s what we were like before we knew God. We could try to 'harden' ourselves, but is that real strength? Really, we were ready to break. Maybe we already fell and hit the ground. We were reused jars with cracks along the sides. But when we found the truth, when we found God, we put that precious truth into a good jar and we sealed it. We wanted to preserve it. But not everyone has done this.

       We often hear about climbing the ladder to success. Maybe some of us have been trying to climb a ladder to be 'perfect' before God, trying to earn our way in. But that just doesn't work. When Jesus came to earth and died on the cross, and Paul tells us that our sins were nailed to that cross—that the power of sin was defeated and broken in that moment. When we believe in Jesus, we are no longer held captive by our past. He has won the victory over our sin, offering us a true release from its hold that no human effort could ever achieve. Climbing the ladder might feel good—it might make us feel like we’re doing something great—but it doesn’t matter, because we can never be perfect in this life no matter how hard we try. Sure, we can try, but nobody ends up perfect. So, why not give up trying to be 'worthy' of God’s attention and just accept that he has already dealt with our sins at the cross? If we believe in what Jesus accomplished, we can set aside that work, that hardship. We can embrace the acceptance God gives us freely, and in that, we find our security. And once we’ve gained that security, we can know that we have eternal security.

       But, of course, none of us have to believe. It’s not by force. Yet, couldn’t there be bad consequences if we willingly choose not to? Peter tells us that for those who do not believe, ““The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone,” and “A stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense.” They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do” (1 Peter 2:7, 8, ESV) In other words, not believing doesn’t take away reality, does it? If Jesus really is God, and we choose to discard that, the truth doesn’t go away. And if he’s not God, then why would it offend us? It wouldn't. None of us are predestined to believe against Jesus; we all have a free choice. But if we continue to ignore Peter’s warning, we are creating our own destiny. Like stated at the beginning of this message, we never know when our time will run out.