What Jesus Will Never Ever Do
“I Will Never Cast Out”
The Puritan thinkers had lots in common with each other, but they were not all the same. Some, like Thomas Goodwin, were well-educated and preached in the royal court. But others were poor and uneducated. John Bunyan was one of these.
Bunyan is most famous for writing The Pilgrim’s Progress, a story about the Christian life, and it is, besides the Bible, history’s best-selling book. But he also wrote over fifty other books. One is called Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ, written in 1678.
The warmth of the title reflects the tone throughout the book. In typical Puritan style, Bunyan took a single verse and wrote a whole book on it. The verse for Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ is John 6:37, where Jesus declares:
All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out.
This was one of Bunyan’s favorite verses, as evident from how often he cites it throughout his writings. But in this particular book, he takes the text and zeroes in on it, especially the second half of the verse: “Whoever comes to me I will never cast out.”
The Heart of Jesus
Dane Ortlund
Featuring short, easy-to-read chapters and helpful explanations, this simplified edition of Gentle and Lowly takes readers into the depths of Christ’s tender heart for sinners and sufferers.
At the center of his book Bunyan confronts our natural suspicions of what Jesus is like. We can easily tend to think that Jesus is welcoming to others, but not so much with us. Sure, he’ll embrace others fully—but me? One by one Bunyan rejects our reasons for not coming to Jesus.
But I am a great sinner, say you.
“I will in no wise cast out,” says Christ.
But I am an old sinner, say you.
“I will in no wise cast out,” says Christ.
But I am a hard-hearted sinner, say you.
“I will in no wise cast out,” says Christ.
But I am a backsliding sinner, say you.
“I will in no wise cast out,” says Christ.
But I have served Satan all my days, say you.
“I will in no wise cast out,” says Christ.
But I have sinned against light, say you.
“I will in no wise cast out,” says Christ.
But I have sinned against mercy, say you.
“I will in no wise cast out,” says Christ.
But I have no good thing to bring with me, say you.
“I will in no wise cast out,” says Christ.
This promise was provided to answer all objections, and does answer them.1
We no longer use the expression “in no wise,” but it was a seventeenth-century English way of capturing the strong language of the original Greek of John 6:37. The text literally reads, “The one coming to me I will not—not!—cast out.” Sometimes, as here, Greek uses two negatives (“not” and “not”) piled on top of each other to make the point especially strong. The idea is: “I will most certainly never, ever cast you out.”
“Come to Me”
What is Jesus Christ saying to us?
Jesus’s statement in John 6:37, and the book Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ, and the long quote above at the center of that book, all exist to calm us with the persevering nature of the heart of Christ.
He says, “Come to me.”
We say, “But I don’t deserve to . . .”
He says, “Come as you are. I will never ever cast you out.”
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Anxious sinners like us are endless in our capacity to see reasons for Jesus to cast us out. Picture a large paper factory off the highway, with several enormous chimneys puffing out billowing smoke as the factory produces thousands of pieces of paper by the hour. We’re like that factory. We constantly produce, hour by hour, reasons to believe Jesus will give up on us. We are factories of fresh resistances to Christ’s love. Even when we run out of tangible reasons to be cast out, such as specific sins or failures, we tend to retain a vague sense that, given enough time, Jesus will finally grow tired of us and hold us at arm’s length. Bunyan understands us. He knows we tend to deflect Christ’s assurances.
“No, wait”—we say, cautiously approaching Jesus—“you don’t understand. I’ve really messed up, in all kinds of ways.”
I know, he responds.
“You know most of it, sure. Certainly more than what others see. But there’s brokenness down inside me that is hidden from everyone.”
I know it all.
“Well—the thing is, it isn’t just my past. It’s my present too.”
I understand.
“But I don’t know if I can break free of this any time soon.”
That’s the only kind of person I’m here to help.
“The burden is heavy—and heavier all the time.”
Then let me carry it.
“It’s too much to bear.”
Not for me.
“You don’t get it. My mistakes aren’t directed toward others. They’re against you.”
Then I am the one most suited to forgive them.
“But the more of the ugliness in me you discover, the sooner you’ll get fed up with me.”
Whoever comes to me I will never cast out.
Case closed. We cannot present a reason for Jesus Christ to close off his heart to his own sheep. No such reason exists. Every human friend has a limit. If we hurt them enough, we are cast out. The walls go up.
With Christ, though, our sins and weaknesses are the very tickets that qualify us to approach him. Nothing but coming to him is required—first at conversion, and ten thousand times throughout our present lives until we are with him in heaven.
And note that the only thing required to enjoy such love is to come to him. He does not say, “Whoever comes to me and feels really badly for their sin.” He doesn’t say, “Whoever comes to me and promises to do better next time.”
He simply says, “Whoever comes to me I will never cast out.”
We cannot present a reason for Jesus Christ to close off his heart to his own sheep. No such reason exists.
As you come to him, rest in the knowledge that his grasp of you is stronger than your grasp of him. My family vacations each year in south Florida. When my two-year-old Benjamin begins to wade into the waves of the ocean, he reaches up and grabs hold of my hand. He holds on tight as the water gradually gets deeper. But a two-year-old’s grip is not very strong. Before long it is not him holding on to me but me holding on to him. Left to his own strength he would certainly slip out of my hand. But if I have determined that he will not fall out of my grasp, he is secure. He can’t get away from me if he tried.
So it is with Christ. We cling to him, to be sure. But our grip is that of a two-year-old amid the stormy waves of life. His sure grasp of us never falters.
Do you realize what is true of you if you are in Christ? In order for you to fall short of loving embrace into the heart of Christ, he himself would have to be pulled down out of heaven and put back in the grave. That’s not going to happen. And that’s how certain it is that he is never going to cast you out. He cannot bear the thought of parting with his own, even when they most deserve to be forsaken.
We say: “But I . . .”
He says: “Whoever comes to me I will never cast out.”
For those united to him, Jesus is not like your teacher, who gives you good grades if you perform well enough. He is the perfect older brother, who will always stick up for you. You are not a hired worker; you are part of the family now.
His heart will never grow cold toward you, no matter how much you struggle or fail. He will never cast you out. This is who he is. This is his heart.
Notes:
- John Bunyan, Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ, in The Works of John Bunyan, ed. George Offor, 3 vols. (repr., Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991), 1:279–80. I have lightly updated the language.
This article is adapted from The Heart of Jesus: How He Really Feels about You by Dane Ortlund.
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