Questions

What are the situations in which Christian motives are uniquely necessary for moral actions? Why do we instinctively rely on survival instincts in daily life without considering whether they align with Christian principles? Do self-preservation and social expediency overlap with Christian motives? How important is self-preservation? Every day, we make countless choices that go against truly selfless living. Is the Christian called to strike a balance between self-preservation and selflessness?

It is rare to navigate daily problems with explicitly biblical wisdom rather than worldly wisdom—even when that worldly wisdom has been shaped, at least in part, by biblical traditions. The exception tends to arise in conversations dealing with specifically Christian themes. For example, when I drive past someone who looks threatening, I instinctively lock my doors and roll up my windows. That’s common sense. But isn’t it the same kind of wisdom that would extend into more obviously controversial situations for a Christian? Should I still lock my doors when the person outside says, "I am a Christian, please help"?

Similarly, I remember discussing with my wife how her "nesting" instincts were kicking in when she was pregnant with our first child. She felt an overwhelming need to put everything in order before the baby arrived. This instinct expressed her love for our child and could be seen as a natural gift from God—but nesting is also something birds do. Consequently, we might reason that my wife wasn’t required to make uniquely Christian choices in that matter, nor did her decision need to be motivated by Christian reasons. Some actions are simply human or even animal instincts. That raises the question: when does a choice need to be uniquely Christian?

One way to approach this question is by considering primary and secondary causes, recognizing that they are not in competition. Love exists both as a pragmatic necessity, seen in nature, and as something willed by God. There are natural reasons to love, but that does not negate love as a divine command. The question is whether any situations demand a distinctly Christian response rather than one that could be justified by human reasoning alone.

My answer will touch on two key ideas: (1) Obedience to the first table of the Law (2) The two kingdoms doctrine.

The first table of the Law—those commandments that concern our duties toward God—establishes the foundation for Christian motives. Fear, love, and trust in God above all things shape our decisions in ways that transcend mere survival or social expectations. The uniquely Christian motive is not just to act ethically, but to act because God commands it. This distinction becomes clear in moments where natural reasoning alone would lead to self-preservation, but faith calls for something else. Take, for example, the decision to aid a persecuted Christian at the risk of one's own safety. Worldly wisdom would say to preserve oneself. Even a general moral principle might suggest helping only if it is not too dangerous. But the Christian motive—rooted in the first table of the Law—demands that love of God comes before love of self.

The two kingdoms doctrine helps clarify when and how this applies. In the kingdom of the left (civil society), wisdom and prudence govern ordinary affairs. But in the kingdom of the right (faith and salvation), obedience to God sometimes means disregarding worldly wisdom in favor of what is eternal. The Christian life, then, is not about balancing self-preservation and selflessness, but about submitting all choices—whether pragmatic or sacrificial—to the will of God.

Before further exploring these ideas, it is important to recognize that Christianity is not merely an abstract system of thought or a theory about how to act in the future. It is a life lived in history.

I don't subscribe to much of what makes N.T. Wright famous as a theologian, but I do find one of his phrases particularly apt: he says many Christians read the Gospels and experience them "as an empty cloak." To illustrate, consider the plain reading of Luke 13:24: "Strive to enter through the narrow door. For many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able." This seems straightforward. Jesus commands striving. He does not say, "You will passively experience striving as you enter what has already been opened to you." Nor does He say, "You will suffer as you enter." He says, "Strive to enter."

And why strive? Because many will seek but will not be able. Why won’t they be able? The most natural reading suggests that they did not strive. What other explanation makes sense? That some will seek but never had a chance to begin with? If so, why would Jesus tell us to strive? What connection would that have to His warning? At the very least, we must take His words as they are given: striving is required. The command is prescriptive, not merely descriptive.

Yet, nearly every commentary I read suggests that Jesus means, "You will suffer as you enter in." But there is a different word for suffering for a reason. To suffer is passive; to strive is active. While striving may include suffering, the distinction matters.

This does not mean we should throw out substitutionary atonement, reject grace, or embrace Pelagianism. The issue is one of primary and secondary causes. God is the primary cause of salvation—He accomplishes redemption in Christ, grants faith, and sustains His people. Yet within that framework, there are secondary causes: the believer’s striving, repenting, and enduring. The striving Jesus commands is not a contradiction of grace but rather its lived expression. Salvation is a reality, and striving is the natural response of those being drawn to God.

This brings us back to the original question. If Christian motives are uniquely necessary anywhere, they are necessary in obedience to the first table of the Law. Our duties toward God—fearing, loving, and trusting in Him above all things—are not merely a matter of natural ethics or social utility. They are obligations that only a Christian can truly understand and act upon, because they stem from faith. Worldly wisdom may tell us to do good, but only biblical wisdom roots goodness in the character of God. This is why the uniquely Christian response to moral dilemmas—especially those that demand something beyond self-preservation—lies in obedience to Christ’s call. This obedience is not mere moral effort but a faithful response to God's work in us.