Simul is the Latin, word from which our English word simultaneous is derived; it means “at one and the same time,” justus is the Latin from which our word just comes, and et is the Latin word for and, The word peccator is probably least familiar to us. We derive the English words impeccable and peccadillo from it. It is the Latin word for sinner. Putting the words together, we get simul justus et peccator; “at the same time just and sinner.”

This is the singular point where Jesus and all saved people meet. This is the good news! This is the Gospel! This is the point where we can be described with exactly the same words as describe our Lord and Savior: Simul justus et peccator.

When Jesus went to the cross, He was at the same time just and sinner. 1 Corithians 5:21 explains this extraordinary statement, “He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” Jesus was the only man to ever live a perfectly righteous life. He completely fulfilled the Law and in so doing, earned justification. “But the LORD was pleased to crush Him, putting Him to grief;” (Isaiah 53:10a) God looked at Jesus and saw all of our sins and let His blood be spilled for sins He did not commit.

When we repent and believe in Jesus as Lord and Savior, We are at that moment just and sinner. “…for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, being justified as a gift by His grace through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus;” (Romans 3:23-24) Though we live completely unrighteous lives, God justifies us because of the blood of the Lamb of God. The only perfectly righteous man who ever lived bore our sins and now God looks at us and sees the righteousness of Jesus.

The sins of the saved go to Him; and His righteousness goes to the saved. He deserved justification and a place before the face of God, yet He received suffering and a death He did not deserve. We deserve suffering and death, but God clothes us in an alien righteousness and gives us a place before His throne that we do not deserve.

May His holy name ever be praised! For His lovingkindness is everlasting. (Psalm 136:1-26)

Not long ago, I was enjoying a shower-free Saturday and working a little harder than usual in the basement. Just before dinner, I was sitting at the computer and I noticed an odd aroma. At first, I didn’t know what it was, and then it dawned on me that it was me. I immediately shuffled off to the shower before I spoiled my family’s dinner.

Until you smell yourself, you don’t even suspect that you might need a shower. The problem is, other people can smell you long before you can smell yourself. For some reason, we’re somewhat immune to our own scent and we don’t even suspect that we might reek until we’ve been really stinky for a really, really long time.

It is no different with our sin. We are somewhat immune to noticing the stench of our own sins until we’ve allowed them to pollute our lives almost completely. Before I was saved, I was great at comparing myself to other stinking, sinning people and convincing myself that I didn’t smell as bad as they did. Some people, some nominal Christians, go through their entire lives this way. They’re kind of like the ‘deadheads’ of old, thinking a little patchouli oil (good works) will cover up the smell.

God knew that I was rotten to the core and His Holy Spirit convicted me of my sins and let me smell myself for the first time. He put it into my mind (and my nostrils) that I definitely needed a shower. He did that through a preacher who could smell me and was bold enough to tell me that I stank. God also made it clear that no water on earth could wash me as clean as I needed to be. Only the blood of Jesus, the Lamb of God could wash my soul spotlessly clean. Revelation 7:14

Though I still enjoy a shower-free Saturday once in a while and like to think I don’t smell *that* bad, I am much more attuned to the smell of my own sins. Praise God that He rescued me from the patchouli-tainted works of my “carnal Christian” life and led me to trust completely in His Amazing Grace.

Surprisingly, this one was not fictional and was written by a respected journalist named Michael Gartner. It is entitled, “A Life Without Left Turns.” If you would like to read the entire article, here is the link. If you would just like a synopsis, read on.

My father never drove a car.

Well, that’s not quite right.

I should say I never saw him drive a car. He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.

“In those days,” he told me when he was in his 90s, “to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it.”

At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in:

“Oh, bull___!” she said. “He hit a horse.”

“Well,” my father said, “there was that, too.”

So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car.

Another portion tells about his father and mother’s church habits:

My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn’t seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage. (Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.) He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustin’s Church. She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish’s two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home. If it was the assistant pastor, he’d take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church.

He called the priests “Father Fast” and “Father Slow.”

Later in the account we find out why it is so named.

As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, “Do you want to know the secret of a long life?” “I guess so,” I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.

“No left turns,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“No left turns,” he repeated. “Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic. As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn.”

The piece ends with his father’s death at 102 years of age.

“I want you to know,” he said, clearly and lucidly, “that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have.”

A short time later, he died.

A man gets married, works hard all his life, has two sons, walks everywhere, doesn’t drive a car, avoids church, lives to be 102 years old, dies peacefully and goes straight to Hell.

If there is nothing more to this life than to live happily, comfortably, healthily and die peacefully, then religion is a complete waste of time and we should just skip church like this man did and go for a walk instead!  His story is an example of how not to live and we should pray that our lives are not wasted as this man’s was. How terribly, tragically sad this story is. Proof that Satan will give you anything you want in this life if he can have you in the next.

But if the Bible is the truth and there is more to our existence than this brief journey we call life, then our purpose must be to never live a life focused on selfish comfort and pleasure. Our true purpose must be to reach those who do not know about Jesus and share God’s gift of eternal life. (I’ll let you in on a secret: most of your friends at church are trying their best to live their lives like the man in this story. If they have retired already, time is running out for you to tell them that they’re wasting their life.)

Here is a truly heartwarming story that Christians should pass around more than the one by Gartner. This one is from John Piper’s book Don’t Waste Your Life.

In April 2000, Ruby Eliason and Laura Edwards were killed in Cameroon, West Africa. Ruby was over eighty. Single all her life, she poured it out for one great thing: to make Jesus Christ known among the unreached, the poor, and the sick. Laura was a widow, a medical doctor, pushing eighty years old, and serving at Ruby’s side in Cameroon. The brakes failed, the car went over a cliff, and they were both killed instantly. I asked my congregation: Was that a tragedy? Two lives, driven by one great passion, namely, to be spent in unheralded service to the perishing poor for the glory of Jesus Christ – even two decades after most of their American counterparts had retired to throw  away their lives on trifles. No, that is not a tragedy. That is a glory. These lives were not wasted. And these lives were not lost. “Whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it” (Mark 8:35).

Americans spend billions of dollars every year trying to live a life like Michael Gartner’s father. Can you imagine him standing before Jesus on the great Day of Judgment and telling God, “I walked instead of going to church.” Or “I never drove a car and didn’t let my wife make left-hand turns.”

What will you say when you stand before Him?

Please, don’t hold this man’s life up as something to be emulated. His life was a waste. His one and only, precious life was a waste because he refused to know Jesus. Please don’t waste your life like this man. Please!

Here’s why.

As long as I’ve been typing (or “keyboarding” as my kids call it) I’ve used my right hand to hit the first digit of the year. I took my first typing class in 81. In 83 I took my first computer class in high school. When I went to college I spent a lot of time on a keyboard typing computer programs and term papers. Every time I entered the year, I went to the 8 with my middle finger.

In the 90s I worked at three different companies and always had a computer for drafting and CAD design work. Moving from 89 to 90 wasn’t a big deal at all; each digit was just one position to the right. It was the same scenario going from 99 to 00; just one digit over to the right.

Now along comes the dreaded 10.

For nearly 30 years, I’ve been going to my right to type the year. Now I need to go to my left and it is a radical change of a long, long-time habit.

Though this typing change is trivial in comparison, I think there are parallels between this and Jesus’ words to Nicodemus about being born anew in John 3:3. Nicodemus didn’t understand how anyone could be born again – it just didn’t make sense to his worldly, works-based mind. But Jesus was talking about a change, a radical change that goes all the way back to the beginning stages of life and learning. Nicodemus had to first unlearn what he had learned and then relearn the way of the Gospel. This is why Jesus said we must be like little children. My youngest daughter had no trouble going from typing 09 to typing 10 because she’s been typing for less than a year.

The older we get and the longer we cling to our traditions, the harder it is make the changes that Jesus demands. I have family that were born and raised in the Roman church and they thoroughly believe that they can’t change. Not that they won’t change, but that they absolutely can not change.

Making even small changes in our lives is difficult; how much more so the big changes that require us to start all over again. Every time I struggle to use the smallest finger of my left hand to hit the 1 instead of using my right ring finger to hit the 0 I’m going to think about what it means to be born anew. 2 Corinthians 5:17

* Yes. I know that the decade doesn’t end until December 31 of 10, but typing 11 will be way easier than typing 10 and my point would be lost if I waited a year to publish this.