As we come to God to worship Him, our constant prayer should be that He makes us unable to stand before His holy presence. When this happens, there is always a winnowing effect in the church. One of the names historians give to such winnowings is reformation.
Men love religion when that religion enables them to feel they have God in a box. That box may be a golden Temple, an ancient liturgy, a contemporary three chord mantra, or some correct doctrinal opinion, found inside the box, pinned to the pages of a systematic theology as though it had all the frailty and beauty of a dead butterfly. Regardless of the nature of the box – whether it is made out of the stainless steel of honored traditions or the cardboard of autonomous contemporary assumptions – God is not and cannot be contained by it.
But as soon as it becomes apparent that God is moving in the holiness of His sovereignty, all men are undone. Some, like Isaiah, cry out in faith and their lips are cleansed by a coal from the altar. Others do not want what is happening at all, and so they look for a place of refuge, somewhere else, anywhere else, a place where these unsettling things will cease. But the only safe place of refuge from the holiness of the Father is found in the holiness of Christ, His Son. The only way that the opening to this place of refuge can be found is through the Holiness of their Spirit, who leads us to salvation.
When we enter into this salvation, we find that it is no box at all, but is rather unbounded, infinite, glorious, unmeasured grace.