Sanctification: The Christian’s Pursuit of God-Given Holiness by Michael Riccardi, Foreword by John MacArthur (2015)

This book was a Godsend to me recently, as I was seeking for a fair treatment of the often-ignored doctrine of sanctification—not that it’s intentionally ignored, but it’s an issue easily skirted. Christian publishing is littered with how-to and self-help type books categorized as “Christian living,” but when it comes to honest treatments of personal holiness and growth towards Christlikeness, I feel like a reader really needs to dig to find gems.

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A Quick Summary of Sanctification

This little book is such a gem, because it seeks to be the biblical balance between two competing views on sanctification. In fact, Michael Riccardi wrote the book as a response to a multi-year online disagreement among prominent members of The Gospel Coalition—namely Kevin DeYoung and Tullian Tchividjdian (3-4)—about how a person is sanctified: is it essentially “let go and let God” (Tchicidjdian) or do our efforts matter as well (DeYoung)? I never personally followed any of these online discussions (which took place mainly from 2011-2014), so I am thankful for Riccardi’s recap and balanced response.

He breaks the book down into three main chapters and ends with a helpful Q&A section, detailing common rebuttals to all he’s just written. The chapters cover these topics:

• The Christian’s Pursuit of God-Given Holiness
• The Means of Sanctification
• Beholding Glory: The Dynamics of Sanctification (Chapter 4)

Philippians 2:13 Is Key

Ultimately, the balance that Riccardi finds is that sanctification (this pursuit of holiness) is a mutual responsibility between me and God. To Riccardi, holiness is as much a matter of being as of doing. His key verse is Philippians 2:13, that God works in me “both to will and to do for his good pleasure.” Through His Spirit that dwells in my heart, God gives me both the desire to act rightly and the ability to act rightly—but it’s still up to me to act rightly. (11, 13)

I can foresee disagreements with this, of course, that: If it’s partly God’s responsibility for me to be holy, then my failure to be holy is partly his failure at being God, right? Obvious hogwash.

Consider this for yourself. Have you ever been in a tempting situation where you’ve told yourself, “I really shouldn’t…” knowing full well that God’s Holy Spirit’s was prompting you to do right, and yet you went ahead and sinned anyway? Did you ever leave that experience blaming God? Of course not! God worked in you: He gave you the desire to do right, and He gave you the ability to do right. But still, you chose to do wrong, and that sin was 100% yours.

Experiences of personal failure such as this are why we call this the “process” of sanctification. Justification made us a right with God, once-and-for-all. Glorification will take us from this body of flesh to behold Him as He is, and so shall we ever be with the Lord. But between those two goalposts is this life—so perfectly described as a confusing battle in Romans 6-8!—this process of sanctification. But thank God we’re not in it alone!

A Beautiful Illustration from Farming

I absolutely loved the example Riccardi shares from author Henry Scougal about how my efforts in sanctification are like those of a farmer growing crops. (17)

No one doubts the efforts required from the farmer to grow a field of crops, yet he himself does none of the actual growing. While he prepares the field and plants the seeds—and weeds and waters and watches—God alone has the power to make the seed die and grow and yield.

This perfectly illustrates the concept of our role in personal sanctification. The farmer could not just sit and wait and expect God to do everything. The field might grow something but it wouldn’t be a bountiful harvest, especially of anything the farmer wanted to eat! Not because “God failed” but because that’s not God’s design for how farming should work. Farming is a partnership between man and God, and when man shirks his responsibilities, the crop yield will not be bountiful.

Likewise with sanctification. God’s in ultimate control of the spiritual growth in my life—it is, after all called “the Fruit of the Spirit”—yet if I “let go and let God” and expect Him to do everything, that fruit is not going to just one day appear. My free will still matters, hence the warning in 1Thessalonians 5:19 against quenching the Holy Spirit.

A Very Pertinent Question

In his final section, Riccardi plays the Devil’s Advocate and tries to punch holes in his own position by playing the “Yeah, But— Game,” using common questions he hears in rebuttal. One of my favorite questions-and-answer came on pages 57-59, a question about whether it’s sinful to obey, even when we do so reluctantly or with a bad attitude. The example he gives is, since “God loves a cheerful giver,” I shouldn’t give until I actually feel like it, right?

Riccardi writes that it’s never wise to compound sin, just because you think you’ve found a good excuse to disobey—adding sin upon sin is never going to be the better choice. Obey, even when you don’t feel like obeying—and then, as soon as you can, deal with the sin in your heart that makes godly obedience such drudgery! Why don’t you feel like it? That’s the real problem.

One Aspect of the Book I Struggled With

Before closing, I have to admit that I was thrown by the very first line in the book, written by John MacArthur. He writes:

The sight of the glory of God shining in the face of Christ lies at the heart of the entire Christian experience. (vii)

Why was I thrown by this seemingly awesome statement? Because I have never seen the face of Jesus—so this is not yet my experience.

A Pervasive Metaphor

Of course, this most certainly is my confident hope, and throughout the Word that reveals Jesus to me, I can absolutely see God’s glory. Amen, and thank you, Jesus!

But while I’m confident that MacArthur’s use of this phrase is metaphorical (or teleological), I feel like it’s a metaphor that’s become so pervasive in Evangelicalism that many Christians now expect it to be literal. It reminds me of all those worship songs that use the same metaphor: “I want to touch You, I want to see Your face, I want to know You more” or “Oh Lord, You’re beautiful—Your face is all I seek!” (among many, many others). They’re pretty and worshipful songs, to be sure, but the more often they rehash this image, the weaker the metaphor-as-metaphor gets.

Are they wrong? If used poetically or metaphorically, of course not. Passages like Psalm 27:8 and 2Corinthians 4:1-6 make that abundantly clear—we can talk this way about “the face of Jesus”! But do we ever wonder why so many Christians expect to experience dreams and visions of Jesus—or to hear His literal voice—and then they’re confused when they don’t? Sure, the Charismatic Movement is partially to blame, but so are we Conservatives. We’ve overplayed the metaphor to the point that many assume it’s reality, and we rarely fight against this misimpression. And of course, the danger to weak believer who’s been spoon-fed this bad theology then becomes: “If I don’t see/hear/feel Jesus, then I must be spiritually disabled.”

Some Alternatives

“So,” you might ask, “what’s the alternative?” How about a greater focus on the Spirit of Christ that indwells me! Jesus even told us that it would be better for Him depart, so the Spirit could come (John 16:7-11). Or how about focusing more on the example of Jesus in the Word than my sensual “experiences” with Him in my one-on-one time? (I use that word “sensual” intentionally to describe the senses, but also because of the disgusting rise of “Jesus-is-my-boyfriend” music.)

Perhaps you think I’m splitting hairs here—and 30 years ago, I probably would have been. But this experiential-Jesus language has become all too pervasive in Christian music, and its literal application is theologically inaccurate. So when I also see it as the first line in books from trusted authors like MacArthur, my flags go up.

“My Hope Is in the Lord”

Of course, MacArthur wasn’t wrong in opening with this sentence—and knowing him as an author, it was likely used as his hook to draw the reader in. I was glad to read further into that paragraph and the whole Foreword, because he does write far more about Christian hope than experience. This is where all Christians-in-the-flesh still reside, and it should remain our focus. In fact, I just took a moment to encourage myself with this fantastic hymn: “My Hope Is in the Lord.”

[Note: I would have used this version from Grace Community Church, but…organs. Like nails on a chalkboard to me.]

Conclusion

I really appreciated this book and its short but careful dissection of this doctrine of sanctification. It was a spiritual challenge for me to consider the excuses I make about why I don’t grow and the power God’s given me to grow. If you ever come across it, it’s worth a read.

©2026 E.T.

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