My backlog of movies to watch has grown longer and longer by the month, but I finally got around to watching Logan, the final (?) chapter in the Wolverine saga. Look, I'm a big fan of the MCU, and the DC Universe . . . well, okay, not so much on the DC Universe. But rarely does a film, and never a comic book film, linger and resonate with me so long after watching it. I love the Marvel stories and characters, but they're popcorn flicks: entertaining and smartly-written, but entertainment. I love the Dark Knight Trilogy (the only DC movies I have finished), but they don't move me the way this movie did.
And I think that's because it wasn't a comic book movie. It was, rather, a movie about mending broken relationships, leaving behind ended relationships, and forging new relationships. It was a film about pain, hurt, fear, and longing. It was primarily a movie about family, and the superpowers and mutants really just felt like a side plot, an "Oh yeah, and they're mutants."
*Big old spoiler alert! If you haven't seen Logan, or Infinity War, or, perhaps any other movie (I'm not sure where this is going, so anything could get spoiled!), you might want to stop reading now.*
Maybe it was Patrick Stewart's broken, angry, confused Xavier. Maybe it was the fact that his death was so surprising - even anticlimactic - that it felt so incredibly real. Because death isn't usually neat, and never convenient. Maybe it's the fact that Logan's death was also Hugh Jackman's final moment as Wolverine, a character he spent twenty years developing. Maybe it's because these men spent two decades portraying these characters, and their Swan Song was the best performance - I think - we've ever seen out of either of them (and, yes, I include Captain Picard in that comparison).
It was definitely the girl. This young girl - I think she was eleven, but I'm too lazy to look it up - was so beautiful in her complexity that it easily got lost on me that she was holding her own with both Stewart and Jackman . . . and she did it for over an hour without saying a word. She didn't have to say anything. Her eyes told everything.
And her scream. That primal scream when she saw Xavier's body in the back of the truck . . . it was utterly heartbreaking. Without a single line of dialogue, her scream conveyed the intensity of losing the only person she trusted - losing her kindly old "grandfather" - and being left with this angry, terrifying, estranged father.
I was shocked when Loki and Heimdall were killed. I even teared up when Gamora was killed. But this film has moved me and disturbed me in ways that most movies don't. And I'm not even sure I liked the movie, to be honest.
I can tolerate some language in a film, even really profane language, but ten minutes into this movie and I was sort of wishing they had hired me to edit the dialogue a bit. I can tolerate violence - even graphic violence - to a degree, but by the end of the movie, I no longer wanted to know how many different ways people could be killed by metal claws.
And yet, it sticks. It sticks because it was so very real. It was so very character-driven, so very emotional, and - let's face it - if you've lived for close to two-hundred years, fought in every major war, lost everyone you've ever loved or cared about, you're probably going to pick up some bad language habits. And shoving metal through people's heads will be bloody. And a girl who was made in a test tube, raised as an experiment, trained to be an assassin, and lost her entire family . . . yeah, she's going to have issues. The movie was poignant because it was real.
Except, of course, it wasn't real - it was only a movie. Men don't have psychic powers. Girls don't have claws in their hands. No one has an adamantium-coated skeleton..
Which is what makes this whole thing disturbing. I am moved - to the point of tears and even some mild depression - by a fictional movie with fictional people. Logan isn't real. Xavier isn't real. Laura isn't real. The family dynamics were scripted and sculpted. The blood was fake, the deaths were lies, and yet the film moved not only myself, but so many other people.
My uncle died a few weeks ago and, believe me, it made me sad. Really sad. But not as sad as this film. A friend of mine just lost his brother, and that made me incredibly sad, but not as sad as Laura's loss made me feel. My wife's grandmother died last July, and I regret that we never made it one last time to visit her, but not as much as I regret Xavier's anticlimactic death.
That should terrify me. I think - I hope - it does, or I may not be writing this. Jesus says in Matthew 24 that as the end approaches, "the love of most will grow cold." I've always taken that to mean that non-believers will just get angry. But when we look at the context, it's actually far more disturbing:
"At that time many will turn away from the faith and will betray and hate each other, and many false prophets will appear and deceive many people. Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved" (24:10-13).
I think - and I suppose it's a bit vague here - but I think Jesus is talking about believers. I think Jesus is talking about people who, when they see the wicked prosper and they see the world's headlong rush into the depths of Hell, simply stop caring. I think He's talking about people who should be preaching the Gospel and loving their neighbors as themselves, but who, instead, simply grow apathetic to the suffering and plight of mankind.
And this brings up an uncomfortable realization: my love might be growing cold. When I care more about fictional characters in a movie than I do my own family. . . .
When I care more about drama on the latest episode of some television show than I do the heartache of my neighbor. . . .
When I'm more excited that they cast some big name in the next Marvel movie than I am the joy of a friend's newborn. . . .
Brothers and sisters, this is unacceptable. We cannot let our love grow cold. We cannot let cynicism and apathy harden our hearts. We cannot let distrust keep us from helping the poor, the widowed, and the orphans. People are dying and going to Hell, and we're crying over a movie.
Maybe it's time to do the hard thing and turn off the television, shut down the computer, and spend some time in prayer and the Scriptures. Maybe it's time to actually be obedient and take opportunities to love our neighbors as we love ourselves - and certainly to love them more than we love a comic book hero.
Logan may have died, but he didn't die for your sins, or mine. Xavier may have been executed, but he wasn't executed for your neighbor's sins. And, at least in the comics, they may come back from time to time, but only one Man had the power to actually resurrect Himself. And He is worthy of far more love than anything else we could ever invent.
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Friday, September 21, 2018
Friday, July 7, 2017
Water Into Wine
On the third
day a wedding took place at Cana in Galilee. Jesus’ mother was
there, and Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the
wedding. When the wine was gone, Jesus’ mother said to him, “They have
no more wine.”
“Woman, why do you involve me?” Jesus replied. “My hour has not yet come.”
His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”
Nearby stood six stone water jars, the kind used by the Jews for ceremonial washing, each holding from twenty to thirty gallons.
Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water”; so they filled them to the brim. Then he told them, “Now draw some out and take it to the master of the banquet.” They did so, and the master of the banquet tasted the water that had been turned into wine. He did not realize where it had come from, though the servants who had drawn the water knew. Then he called the bridegroom aside and said, “Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.”
What Jesus did here in Cana of Galilee was the first of the signs through which he revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.
After this he went down to Capernaum with his mother and brothers and his disciples. There they stayed for a few days.
-John 2:1-12, NIV Translation
When we look at this story of the Wedding at Cana, we have to ask ourselves the inevitable question: did this really happen? Now, obviously since none of us were there, we cannot say with certainty one way or the other. We may believe it happened or believe it couldn't have happened, but we cannot say for sure. We can, though, examine the evidence and decide if it's likely.
The first thing that is most striking about this story is that there are several witnesses to the event, and the town was actually named. Weddings were a remarkably large event in first-century Israel, often lasting a week and with hundreds of guests. Though it does not appear as if everyone there was aware of what happened, we do know that many of the servants "who had drawn the water knew [where the wine came from]." John, writing in the late first-century, was opening up his tale to much criticism, because witnesses can always be located, particularly if their location is outright named. Anyone doubting the validity of John's account could easily have gone to Cana (a real town) for him or herself and questioned the people. If the story were untrue, it is quite likely that it would have faded into oblivion, because no one would have been able to verify it. On the other hand, the story endured through the first century and on into the second century, with no evidence of contradiction. While this does not prove the event, it should make us pause and consider the implications.
One argument that is made quite often is the fact that the Gospel of John was written sometime in the second century by a Gentile, and not the Jewish Apostle John. This is highly unlikely, as we find that the author appears to be quite familiar with first-century Jewish customs. The practice of ceremonial washing (the purpose of the water in the story) was not observed by the Christian Church once it became predominantly Gentile (end of the first-century). A Gentile, then, writing a century (or two) after the fact would not be likely to have mentioned the jars at all. His or her water source would have been something more common to second century Roman culture. While it is possible that this detail was "added" for realism, it is highly unlikely, leading us to a relatively safe assumption that the author was, at the very least, Jewish. So we cannot conclude from this that it had to be John who penned the Gospel, but internal evidence does not rule him out as the author, either.
Lastly, we note a reluctance on the part of Jesus to even reveal His power. If Jesus were faking this, if He were merely a clever magician or a sleight-of-hand artist, then what we would find is, most likely, a deep and unyielding sense of showmanship. Think about modern entertainers today: David Copperfield, David Blaine, Criss Angel, even those of the last few decades (e.g., Doug Henning, Blackstone). They actively seek out individuals, they actively arrange for Las Vegas shows, television spots, and they actively promote their magic. They sell themselves as entertainers or supernatural beings, but they rarely, if ever, seem to hide from their talents. We find a startling humility in a man who claimed to be God. Does this prove His claim? No, but it should strike us as odd that a faker would be reluctant to fake.
What do we have? We have reasonable cause to believe that what we read in this portion of John may have actually occurred. We have reasonable assumptions that:
1) It was written during the time period in which it occurred by a witness
2) It occurred, not in a vacuum, but in front of many people in a real place
3) It was performed by someone who was not an entertainer looking to wow a crowd, but someone who was reluctant and reserved - in other words, a real person who performed a real miracle.
These are not concrete, nor are they airtight in their arguments. But, as with much ancient literature, we must approach with an examination of its pprobability, not with a denial of its possibility.
Friday, June 23, 2017
For Some Storms, Not Just Any Port Will Do
It's been a while since I've done an off-the-cuff post; most of my posts are planned out, and I work on them for weeks - even months. But this one is being typed up now, Friday the 23rd, at 6:09am. So if it appears rough, sorry.
Only I'm not really sorry. Not really. Sometimes it's good to remove a polished veneer.
The last several months have been rough. Really, really rough. There is so much being called into question in my life: I'm seeing false teachings growing in the Church; I'm seeing false teachings growing in my local church; there are family issues (when are there not, especially with kids?); and the more I walk with Christ, the more I am spiritually attacked. Add onto that my own normal battle with the flesh . . . there's a lot. And I'm questioning.
I'm not questioning God, or His existence, or His goodness. I'm not even questioning my salvation (though I am examining it and working it out with more careful attention these days). The problem is the voices (ha ha ha!). I don't mean I'm hearing voices in a mental illness sort of way, I just mean there are so many viewpoints and voices in this world - both within the Church and without - and that I take Paul's admonition to test the spirits quite literally. But it seems as if for every spirit and voice I test, two or three more get in queue.
And one of those is always, most certainly, mine. Frankly, it's exhausting.
The upshot is that it has driven to my knees in prayer more times just in the last week than I think I typically spend in a year, and I have all but given up on reading what everyone tells me the Bible says and means, and have cut out the middle man - as it were - and have spent my time reading the Bible itself, instead. And it's difficult, as a believer who has the Holy Spirit, to read God's Word constantly and not have your viewpoint and perspective change. It makes testing the spirits a little easier, but it also reveals more spirits to test.
Like I said, exhausting.
What is really happening, though, is a lot of the beliefs that I grew up with have been called into question. There are aspects of my faith that I am now realizing are in direct opposition to what the Bible actually says. There are pitfalls that are old, but their pull is getting stronger. There are pitfalls that are new, and I'm rather alarmed at their presence.
But then there's Jesus. One thing that I am (still way too slowly for my personal tastes!) learning is that He is faithful. Paul assures us that He will ever allows us to be tempted beyond the measure of what we can endure, and, when we are tempted, will always provide a way out, in order that we might stand under the temptation and not sin. This is a very exciting thing, especially when I learned to start trusting that promise and look for the way out.
And the way out is always there.
I don't always take it (hence the "slow" part of the slow learning), but it is always there, and the times when I resist the devil, he does flee. So, while there are many, many questions storming and swirling around me, and many, many frustrations in life, there is a Rock - a foundation - upon Whom I can build. And the really good news? He can be your Rock, too.
If you don't know Jesus, I'd like to offer you a challenge: this week, read Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. All four Gospels - it's more than doable (I didn't think that was a real word, but spellcheck isn't flagging it, so. . . . .). After you do that, feel free to post comments or questions, even negative ones. God is an immovable Rock, a sure salvation, and your questions will not shake Him.
Only I'm not really sorry. Not really. Sometimes it's good to remove a polished veneer.
The last several months have been rough. Really, really rough. There is so much being called into question in my life: I'm seeing false teachings growing in the Church; I'm seeing false teachings growing in my local church; there are family issues (when are there not, especially with kids?); and the more I walk with Christ, the more I am spiritually attacked. Add onto that my own normal battle with the flesh . . . there's a lot. And I'm questioning.
I'm not questioning God, or His existence, or His goodness. I'm not even questioning my salvation (though I am examining it and working it out with more careful attention these days). The problem is the voices (ha ha ha!). I don't mean I'm hearing voices in a mental illness sort of way, I just mean there are so many viewpoints and voices in this world - both within the Church and without - and that I take Paul's admonition to test the spirits quite literally. But it seems as if for every spirit and voice I test, two or three more get in queue.
And one of those is always, most certainly, mine. Frankly, it's exhausting.
The upshot is that it has driven to my knees in prayer more times just in the last week than I think I typically spend in a year, and I have all but given up on reading what everyone tells me the Bible says and means, and have cut out the middle man - as it were - and have spent my time reading the Bible itself, instead. And it's difficult, as a believer who has the Holy Spirit, to read God's Word constantly and not have your viewpoint and perspective change. It makes testing the spirits a little easier, but it also reveals more spirits to test.
Like I said, exhausting.
What is really happening, though, is a lot of the beliefs that I grew up with have been called into question. There are aspects of my faith that I am now realizing are in direct opposition to what the Bible actually says. There are pitfalls that are old, but their pull is getting stronger. There are pitfalls that are new, and I'm rather alarmed at their presence.
But then there's Jesus. One thing that I am (still way too slowly for my personal tastes!) learning is that He is faithful. Paul assures us that He will ever allows us to be tempted beyond the measure of what we can endure, and, when we are tempted, will always provide a way out, in order that we might stand under the temptation and not sin. This is a very exciting thing, especially when I learned to start trusting that promise and look for the way out.
And the way out is always there.
I don't always take it (hence the "slow" part of the slow learning), but it is always there, and the times when I resist the devil, he does flee. So, while there are many, many questions storming and swirling around me, and many, many frustrations in life, there is a Rock - a foundation - upon Whom I can build. And the really good news? He can be your Rock, too.
If you don't know Jesus, I'd like to offer you a challenge: this week, read Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. All four Gospels - it's more than doable (I didn't think that was a real word, but spellcheck isn't flagging it, so. . . . .). After you do that, feel free to post comments or questions, even negative ones. God is an immovable Rock, a sure salvation, and your questions will not shake Him.
Friday, November 25, 2016
Happy Thanksgiving!
I just wanted to send you all a quick note, telling you that I hoped you had a fantastic Thanksgiving! More importantly, even if you didn't, I pray that you remember the biggest reason any of us could ever be thankful: Jesus. Happy Thanksgiving!
Thursday, June 25, 2015
All That Matters
So I had planned an elaborate and (I thought) brilliant post about South Carolina, the shooting, racism, the Confederate flag, gun control, and so on. It was going to be epic, convicting, and theologically astounding. But I have come to realize this week that time is short, and we may not have many more opportunities to talk about what really matters in life, and that is the Gospel.
The Gospel is all that matters. Period. So, while we've discussed these things before in numerous other posts, I want to bring it together here: The Gospel is God loving you even though you don't deserve it.
I'm going to lay out a fundamental, yet painful truth: you do not deserve God's love. Yes, you. You, right here, right now, reading this, do not deserve God's love; He owes you nothing, because you have lived most of your life pursuing yourself. You have lived for your dreams, your desires, your wants. Even when you've been selfless, it's mostly because you wanted to feel better about yourself. And you've done it all at the expense of God. We call this sin, and, as I've said a hundred times before, sin is nothing short of treason against the Creator.
In order to grasp the Gospel of Jesus, we must all lay hold of this fundamental truth. We cannot gloss over it, ignore it, or downplay it. You and I - for I am right here with you - deserve God's wrath. Sin has no boundaries, but extends through religions, sexualities, gender, political parties, and any other category we could possibly think of. No one is without sin. There are none who are righteous, not a single one of us.
But here's the good part: God loves us still. When we sin, God loves us. When we fight against God's will, He still loves us. When we pretend (or even convince ourselves) that He doesn't exist, He still loves us. He became one of us in the person of Jesus, lived a life in complete submission to God, died for us, and then got back up. All God asks is that we trust Him.
That's really all He's ever wanted from us. And so, even though we trust ourselves more, even though we trust other people more, He died in order to prove that He's trustworthy. And where sin is limitless, Grace is even more limitless. Grace is available no matter what your religion is, your sexuality, your gender, your political party, or any other category you could possibly think of. John writes in 1 John 2: "He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world." Get that? Everyone has the opportunity.
But you have to believe (John 3:16). You have to believe that you don't deserve God's love, and you have to believe that Jesus is the proof we need that God loves us anyway. One day, you will stand before God, and He will ask for an account of your life. What will you tell your Creator? That you lived selfishly, without regard to either Him or others? That you tried to do right by others, but only to impress Him? His answer is going to be swift and terrible: "Get out of my sight; you were never Mine."
The late Brennan Manning once said (and I'm paraphrasing, because I can't find the written quote): the only honest people in the room are going to look at their shoes and say, "Well, frankly, Sir, I screwed up most of my life, but I believed You love me, and I desired to shape and mold my life as a response to that love." And that, Brennan says, is the difference between true believers and everyone else. God has saved you. He's already done it. Lay hold of it, and watch your life be transformed.
Because time is running out.
The Gospel is all that matters. Period. So, while we've discussed these things before in numerous other posts, I want to bring it together here: The Gospel is God loving you even though you don't deserve it.
I'm going to lay out a fundamental, yet painful truth: you do not deserve God's love. Yes, you. You, right here, right now, reading this, do not deserve God's love; He owes you nothing, because you have lived most of your life pursuing yourself. You have lived for your dreams, your desires, your wants. Even when you've been selfless, it's mostly because you wanted to feel better about yourself. And you've done it all at the expense of God. We call this sin, and, as I've said a hundred times before, sin is nothing short of treason against the Creator.
In order to grasp the Gospel of Jesus, we must all lay hold of this fundamental truth. We cannot gloss over it, ignore it, or downplay it. You and I - for I am right here with you - deserve God's wrath. Sin has no boundaries, but extends through religions, sexualities, gender, political parties, and any other category we could possibly think of. No one is without sin. There are none who are righteous, not a single one of us.
But here's the good part: God loves us still. When we sin, God loves us. When we fight against God's will, He still loves us. When we pretend (or even convince ourselves) that He doesn't exist, He still loves us. He became one of us in the person of Jesus, lived a life in complete submission to God, died for us, and then got back up. All God asks is that we trust Him.
That's really all He's ever wanted from us. And so, even though we trust ourselves more, even though we trust other people more, He died in order to prove that He's trustworthy. And where sin is limitless, Grace is even more limitless. Grace is available no matter what your religion is, your sexuality, your gender, your political party, or any other category you could possibly think of. John writes in 1 John 2: "He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world." Get that? Everyone has the opportunity.
But you have to believe (John 3:16). You have to believe that you don't deserve God's love, and you have to believe that Jesus is the proof we need that God loves us anyway. One day, you will stand before God, and He will ask for an account of your life. What will you tell your Creator? That you lived selfishly, without regard to either Him or others? That you tried to do right by others, but only to impress Him? His answer is going to be swift and terrible: "Get out of my sight; you were never Mine."
The late Brennan Manning once said (and I'm paraphrasing, because I can't find the written quote): the only honest people in the room are going to look at their shoes and say, "Well, frankly, Sir, I screwed up most of my life, but I believed You love me, and I desired to shape and mold my life as a response to that love." And that, Brennan says, is the difference between true believers and everyone else. God has saved you. He's already done it. Lay hold of it, and watch your life be transformed.
Because time is running out.
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Fear and Loathing In . . . Everywhere
Like most of you, I was riveted to my television on Tuesday as coverage of the riots in Baltimore unfolded. And, yes, they were riots, not a "revolution." I was appalled at the rampant lawlessness, I was appalled at the refusal to engage on the part of the police, but I am also equally appalled at the rising trend of police brutality among our law enforcement - a brutality that gives all appearances of being racially-motivated.
What fills me with fear, though, is the question no one is asking: why now? Why, only in the last two or three years, have we seen such an exponential rise in aggressive force and overt racism among police officers? To be sure, such incidents have happened in the past, but not to this extent. Police officers were not shooting people in the back, breaking their necks, confiscating cell phones and smashing them to pieces, giving unarmed people closed head injuries . . . I could keep going. And, lest we think these tactics are only aimed at black folks, let us not forget the 51-year-old unarmed white man whom police shot and killed - after firing twenty rounds into him. Why did they do it? He led them on a high-speed chase. True, he was breaking the law, but his actions did not warrant his death, and they certainly did not warrant being shot with twenty rounds.
Then there was the Hispanic/White 2-year-old whose face was blown off by a flash grenade. Why? A drug arrest. But, as it turns out, the guy the police were after didn't even live there. Now, let's stop for a moment and ask ourselves, even if it were the right house, would throwing a grenade into a toddler's crib be an appropriate action in such a case?
And we could go on about the white firefighter arrested while helping out victims of an automobile crash, the homeless man (also white) in New Mexico who was shot in the back while complying with officers, the 11-year-old who was forced to the ground at gunpoint . . . . for building a tree fort, the father arrested for picking up his kids from school, the rather suspicious incident of a teenager who shot himself in the head while handcuffed in the back of a patrol car, or . . . the list can go on. The last three years have not been comforting, and few are wondering why.
Then there is the militarization of police, the arming of Federal agencies like the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (46,000 rounds of hollow-point bullets were ordered by the Fisheries Office of Law Enforcement), and the ever-debated and controversial Jade Helm. There's the argument over whether or not ISIS is in Mexico (the Left says "no," the Right says "yes," but since neither side is completely trustworthy, who can tell?), and the open borders allowing for anyone (even ISIS) to come through virtually unchecked.
Then there's the war on religion, especially Christianity. We're seeing a growing backlash of - let's face it - spiteful same-sex marriage proponents seeking to destroy the lives of Christian business men and women. We're seeing attempts to force pastors into performing same-sex marriages. Presidential Nominee Hillary Clinton has openly declared that certain religions must change their fundamental viewpoints, a direct violation of the First Amendment.
So what does this do for us as Christians? What does it mean?
It means absolutely nothing. It changes nothing for us, as disciples of Jesus (and in case you're wondering, that is not easy to type).
The Scriptures are filled with assurances and reassurances that God has this, and that He is in control, despite what it may look like. Consider:
"This is my command - be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the LORD your God is with you wherever you go" (Joshua 1:9).
"I am the Alpha and the Omega - the beginning and the end," says the Lord God. "I am the one who is, who always was, and who is still to come - the Almighty One" (Revelation 1:8).
"And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don't work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?" (Matthew 6:28-30).
We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with love (Romans 5:3-5) . . . and perfect love drives out fear (1 John 4:18).
And yet we fear, don't we? I do. I know I shouldn't, but I do. But if I'm honest, I have the really unfortunate task of admitting to myself that fear isn't the problem, the problems aren't the problem - it's that I don't fully trust God. I can trust Jesus with my salvation, but I can't seem to trust Him with my security. I trust that my eternity is set, but I don't trust that my now is set, or that my now will, by necessity, one day lead into my eternity. I love Jesus' words to His disciples in John 16, because, frankly, I need the reminder on a daily basis:
"I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. In that day you will no longer ask Me anything. I tell you the truth, My Father will give you whatever you ask in My name. Until now you have not asked for anything in My name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete. . . .
"I have told you these things so that you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world" (John 16:20-24; 33).
I. Have. Overcome. The. World.
Five words that should give all of us hope. These five words should be our mantra, our prayer, our reminder, our daily meditation. He has already overcome the world. Who, then, shall we fear?
Those who take our wealth? Our treasure is in Jesus.
Those who take our families? God will wipe away every tear from every eye.
Those who take our homes? The Son of man prepares our permanent home.
Those who take our very lives? To live is Christ, to die is gain.
There is nothing - absolutely nothing - that this world can take from us that is better than Jesus. Jesus is all we need, because in Jesus is found freedom and life. Do you not know that before Jesus, we were dead, but that we are dead no longer? Do you not know that before Jesus, we were slaves to sin, but we are now free? Because of Him, we are alive and we are free. There is absolutely nothing that this world can take from us that is better than Jesus.
What fills me with fear, though, is the question no one is asking: why now? Why, only in the last two or three years, have we seen such an exponential rise in aggressive force and overt racism among police officers? To be sure, such incidents have happened in the past, but not to this extent. Police officers were not shooting people in the back, breaking their necks, confiscating cell phones and smashing them to pieces, giving unarmed people closed head injuries . . . I could keep going. And, lest we think these tactics are only aimed at black folks, let us not forget the 51-year-old unarmed white man whom police shot and killed - after firing twenty rounds into him. Why did they do it? He led them on a high-speed chase. True, he was breaking the law, but his actions did not warrant his death, and they certainly did not warrant being shot with twenty rounds.
Then there was the Hispanic/White 2-year-old whose face was blown off by a flash grenade. Why? A drug arrest. But, as it turns out, the guy the police were after didn't even live there. Now, let's stop for a moment and ask ourselves, even if it were the right house, would throwing a grenade into a toddler's crib be an appropriate action in such a case?
And we could go on about the white firefighter arrested while helping out victims of an automobile crash, the homeless man (also white) in New Mexico who was shot in the back while complying with officers, the 11-year-old who was forced to the ground at gunpoint . . . . for building a tree fort, the father arrested for picking up his kids from school, the rather suspicious incident of a teenager who shot himself in the head while handcuffed in the back of a patrol car, or . . . the list can go on. The last three years have not been comforting, and few are wondering why.
Then there is the militarization of police, the arming of Federal agencies like the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (46,000 rounds of hollow-point bullets were ordered by the Fisheries Office of Law Enforcement), and the ever-debated and controversial Jade Helm. There's the argument over whether or not ISIS is in Mexico (the Left says "no," the Right says "yes," but since neither side is completely trustworthy, who can tell?), and the open borders allowing for anyone (even ISIS) to come through virtually unchecked.
Then there's the war on religion, especially Christianity. We're seeing a growing backlash of - let's face it - spiteful same-sex marriage proponents seeking to destroy the lives of Christian business men and women. We're seeing attempts to force pastors into performing same-sex marriages. Presidential Nominee Hillary Clinton has openly declared that certain religions must change their fundamental viewpoints, a direct violation of the First Amendment.
So what does this do for us as Christians? What does it mean?
It means absolutely nothing. It changes nothing for us, as disciples of Jesus (and in case you're wondering, that is not easy to type).
The Scriptures are filled with assurances and reassurances that God has this, and that He is in control, despite what it may look like. Consider:
"This is my command - be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the LORD your God is with you wherever you go" (Joshua 1:9).
"I am the Alpha and the Omega - the beginning and the end," says the Lord God. "I am the one who is, who always was, and who is still to come - the Almighty One" (Revelation 1:8).
"And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don't work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?" (Matthew 6:28-30).
We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with love (Romans 5:3-5) . . . and perfect love drives out fear (1 John 4:18).
And yet we fear, don't we? I do. I know I shouldn't, but I do. But if I'm honest, I have the really unfortunate task of admitting to myself that fear isn't the problem, the problems aren't the problem - it's that I don't fully trust God. I can trust Jesus with my salvation, but I can't seem to trust Him with my security. I trust that my eternity is set, but I don't trust that my now is set, or that my now will, by necessity, one day lead into my eternity. I love Jesus' words to His disciples in John 16, because, frankly, I need the reminder on a daily basis:
"I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. In that day you will no longer ask Me anything. I tell you the truth, My Father will give you whatever you ask in My name. Until now you have not asked for anything in My name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete. . . .
"I have told you these things so that you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world" (John 16:20-24; 33).
I. Have. Overcome. The. World.
Five words that should give all of us hope. These five words should be our mantra, our prayer, our reminder, our daily meditation. He has already overcome the world. Who, then, shall we fear?
Those who take our wealth? Our treasure is in Jesus.
Those who take our families? God will wipe away every tear from every eye.
Those who take our homes? The Son of man prepares our permanent home.
Those who take our very lives? To live is Christ, to die is gain.
There is nothing - absolutely nothing - that this world can take from us that is better than Jesus. Jesus is all we need, because in Jesus is found freedom and life. Do you not know that before Jesus, we were dead, but that we are dead no longer? Do you not know that before Jesus, we were slaves to sin, but we are now free? Because of Him, we are alive and we are free. There is absolutely nothing that this world can take from us that is better than Jesus.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Amazing Grace
I think one of the most damaging trends in our world today is the inability to separate "love" from "approval." For a variety of reasons, we've forgotten that love and approval, though often linked, are not the same thing, and when we believe they are, we create a rather hideous monster. This monster is a set of two extremes, both of which are dangerous.
The first extreme is to believe that God, because He loves us, approves of all of our actions and attitudes. This is simply not true. God is appalled at humanity's sin. The Apostle Peter writes in 2 Peter 2:12, "They are like brute beasts, creatures of instinct, born only to be caught and destroyed and like beasts they too will perish." To be caught and destroyed by God sounds horrible, to me. Oh, but if only it stopped there.
God, using the author of Psalm 50 as His mouthpiece, says:
"You hate my instruction
and cast my words behind you.
When you see a thief, you join with
him.
You throw in you lot with
adulterers.
You use your mouth for evil
and harness your tongue to
deceit.
You speak continually against your
brother
and slander your mother's son.
These things you have done and I kept
silent;
You thought I was altogether like
you.
But I will rebuke you
and accuse you to your face" (17-21).
Maybe the thought of an Almighty God rebuking us is terrifying. Perhaps the idea of the Judge of Mankind accusing us is too uncomfortable. Whatever the reason, we try and convince ourselves that, because God is love, He must accept everything about us. Psalm 5:4 reminds us that "[He] is not a God who takes pleasure in evil; with [Him] the wicked cannot dwell." Love and approval are vastly different ideas in God's universe, and it's a dangerous trap into which many of us too easily fall.
Of course, the other end of the spectrum is just as dangerous: because God doesn't approve, He doesn't love. When so-called Christians bomb abortion clinics, they send a message that says, "God wants sinners to die." Nothing could be further from the truth, as Peter writes in 2 Peter 3:9: "He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish."
When "Christians" protest a man's funeral with signs that read, "God hates gays," they are sending a message that God can't love everyone. But, as with most problems, that idea isn't Biblical, and the Old Testament book of Hosea paints a much different picture.
The book tells of the life of the prophet Hosea, who was commanded by God to marry an adulterous woman (possibly a prostitute, though it's unclear). She bears him several children and there are indications that hint the children may not have even been his. She whores herself out, has a few kids, and Hosea is expected to take them all in.
Not your average fairytale.
Here's the real catch. Repeatedly throughout the book, God equates Hosea's wayward wife with the nation of Israel. In the third chapter, after Hosea's wife has left him again, God says to the prophet, "Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another and is an adulteress. Love her as the LORD loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods . . . " (3:1).
Did you catch what God said? "As the LORD loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods." The Israelites turn their backs on Him, but He loves them anyway. We turn our backs on Him, but He loves us anyway.
God does not hate you, even though you deserve it.
We forget this in our churches. We believe we can earn his love, and we believe that he hates those who fail to do so. His love for us is not based on our paltry attempts to impress, or the lofty ideals and philosophies to which we cling. Rather, God loves us simply because He chooses to love us. Though often entwined, love and approval are not the same thing when it comes to God, and to believe otherwise is foolish and sinful.
So if breaking God's Law, whether by attitude or action, demands payment - hell - then what does that mean for us? How do we reconcile the idea that God doesn't want us to go to hell, but we end up there, anyway?
These are tough questions, and many Christians try to avoid them, but it's time we stopped being afraid of tough questions. Either our faith can be defended, or it can't, and frankly, if it can't, we need to find a new faith.
Let's back up to the beginning of things, and I think we'll find the answer to these questions unfold in a surprising manner. In the third chapter of the Book of Genesis, we find that the first humans were not so unlike ourselves, as they attempted to put their desires before God's command:
The Lord God commanded the man, 'You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will surely die . . . When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it (Genesis 2:16-17; 3: 6).
The result of this? Physical and spiritual death - the sin eating through all of us - invaded mankind (interestingly, the sin wasn't eating the fruit, but desiring a wisdom apart from God). Romans 1:18 puts it this way: "The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men."
The point of all of this is that there are only two ways to fulfill God's law, as found in the Books of Moses. The first is to keep it completely and fully in both attitude and action. The second is to face God's wrath. The Law will be fulfilled, and you and I cannot escape that. One way or another, for each and every one of us, the requirements of God's Law will be met.
Here's the bad news: none of us can keep the Law. Consider the following verses:
Psalm 14 tells us that there is "no one who does good."
Romans 3:21 says that "all have sinned."
None of us have kept the Law.
Since none of us have kept it, all of us deserve hell. Atheists, Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, even Christians. All of us. No one on earth is righteous enough to deserve heaven.
So let's beat a dead horse for a second. There are two ways to fulfill, but none of us have managed the first way. Therefore, there is only one option left: wrath. God's wrath is the only way to atone for (pay back) sin, According to the Bible, you and I are headed for hell.
How's that for nihilistic?
But here's where Grace (what you'll often hear called The Gospel) comes into play. Now, "Gospel" is Greek for "good news." Is the fact that we're headed for hell good news? Not even close.
What Christians usually call "The Good News" has been downplayed as of late. We tend to think of it as some form of doctrine or belief system, which it (sort of) is, but that dulls the impact of what it actually is.
The Gospel is, in fact, a person. Jesus Christ - who should be the center of Christianity - claimed to be "good news." In John 14:6, he said, "I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me" (emphasis mine). What does that mean? Somehow this Jesus guy claimed to be able to get us past the hell we deserve, and into a brand new life of truth.
How is that accomplished? Through Grace.
The very essence of Christianity is not the Ten Commandments or obedience to the Levitical Law, because you and have already broken most of them. The heartbeat of the Christian faith is grace, which is God viewing man's inability to measure up, and doing it for us. Christianity is not a religion where we cross every "t" and dot ever "i"; it is a relationship where God does it for us. Grace, simply put, is God's love. We deserve hell, but God, in his love, offers a way out.
True Love Isn't Blind
"God is not Mr. Magoo."
The pastor paused and the church chuckled. As amusing as it was, the comment is an important one: grace does not cause God to become blind to sin.
Grace does not mean that God simply looks the other way and ignores sin, either. Remember, our sin must be atoned for by God's wrath.
We must never forget this: grace is not the forgiveness of sins, but the substitution of sins. Grace is God, displaying himself through the person of Jesus Christ, fulfilling the Law by keeping it completely and then taking the wrath for it. Christ took God's wrath in your place.
Consider Colossians 2:13-14: "When you were dead in your sins and in . . . your sinful nature, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having cancelled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross." In Titus 2:14, Paul writes that Jesus "gave himself up for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own." You didn't keep the Law, but He took the wrath.
The Great Escape
The imposing figure stoops down, inhaling deeply from his pipe, his multi-tentacled face writhing and squirming. "Do you fear death?" His question hangs in the air. "Do you fear that dark abyss? All your deeds laid bare, all your sins punished? I can offer you an escape . . . Join my crew and postpone judgment: one hundred years before the mast!" He stoops to look into the eyes of a dying man. "Will ye serve?" The man decidedly says yes (Bill Nighy, Pirates of the Carribbean: Dead Man's Chest).
Davy Jones may be one of the greatest characters ever created. He's poetic in his creepiness; every word hangs in the air, giving him a presence not easily captured in an animated character. Of course, as poetic as his words are, the offer still has a problem: it only delays the inevitable. In the end, judgment for sin still takes place, and the guilty verdict still read.
Jesus says something similar to us, but his promise is not a delay. The judgment is not postponed, but fulfilled; the guilty verdict is read and the sentence served by someone else. "Follow me," Jesus says, "and your sentence will have been served for eternity."
Sounds good, right? Perhaps too good. So much so, that you don't buy it. That's fine, you don't have to; it's certainly your choice, but the Law will be fulfilled. You can either let him do it for you, or you can attempt to do it yourself. If you want to do it yourself, though, remember that you've already lost the opportunity, because sin is just as much a part of you as breathing. You and I cannot save ourselves.
This is the great claim of Christianity. For Christ to claim that he is the "living water" (John 4:10), the "light of the world" (John 8:12), and the only means to God (John 14:6) is astonishing by itself, but those are not his only claims. His greatest claim is that he is God. His greatest promise is that he will abide in us. He calls his disciples "children," speaking to them with an intimacy that breaks down any imagined barriers put into place by mankind and its rules. His claim is the most startling claim to ever be uttered by human lips, and it is - to paraphrase C.S. Lewis - either completely absurd or completely true, but it is not - cannot be - something else. We cannot reinterpret what he said to make it more tasteful: either Jesus is God, or he isn't.
Now, if he isn't, then we still have the problem of sin. If he is, though, then our sins have been atoned for and none of us, no matter what we've done, need to go to hell, and all of us, no matter what we've done, can walk in a relationship with God right now, today. We still deserve a life apart from God, but the sentence has been served on our behalf. Let's suppose you murdered someone close to me, and at your trial you received the death penalty. Now let's suppose I'm in the courtroom at your sentencing, and, though your crime was against me, I volunteered to take your place and receive the lethal injection. You deserve it, but I serve it.
This is no fairytale with giants climbing beanstalks or mischievous spirits granting wishes. This isn't even a pie-in-the-sky ideal where the good are rewarded and the bad punished. Either it is real, or it isn't. If it isn't, then our world is stuck in a selfishness from which it cannot escape. If it is true, however, then we find that the God of the universe has done the unthinkable: loved us, come down here amongst us, and died for us.
We can accept or we can reject, but we cannot dwell in half-hearted, lukewarm ignorance. Paul writes in his second letter to the church at Corinth:
So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: the old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people's sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ's behalf: be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God (5:16-21).
God does not approve of our sin, but because of His enormous love and grace, He reconciles us to Him, doesn't count our sins against us, and declares us righteous. This should change our lives, altering our thoughts, our actions, and our relationships. It gives us a purpose and a value not found in the temporary things of this world.
It gives us life.
So the question that will now haunt you until you either answer it or die is this: what do you believe?
The first extreme is to believe that God, because He loves us, approves of all of our actions and attitudes. This is simply not true. God is appalled at humanity's sin. The Apostle Peter writes in 2 Peter 2:12, "They are like brute beasts, creatures of instinct, born only to be caught and destroyed and like beasts they too will perish." To be caught and destroyed by God sounds horrible, to me. Oh, but if only it stopped there.
God, using the author of Psalm 50 as His mouthpiece, says:
"You hate my instruction
and cast my words behind you.
When you see a thief, you join with
him.
You throw in you lot with
adulterers.
You use your mouth for evil
and harness your tongue to
deceit.
You speak continually against your
brother
and slander your mother's son.
These things you have done and I kept
silent;
You thought I was altogether like
you.
But I will rebuke you
and accuse you to your face" (17-21).
Maybe the thought of an Almighty God rebuking us is terrifying. Perhaps the idea of the Judge of Mankind accusing us is too uncomfortable. Whatever the reason, we try and convince ourselves that, because God is love, He must accept everything about us. Psalm 5:4 reminds us that "[He] is not a God who takes pleasure in evil; with [Him] the wicked cannot dwell." Love and approval are vastly different ideas in God's universe, and it's a dangerous trap into which many of us too easily fall.
Of course, the other end of the spectrum is just as dangerous: because God doesn't approve, He doesn't love. When so-called Christians bomb abortion clinics, they send a message that says, "God wants sinners to die." Nothing could be further from the truth, as Peter writes in 2 Peter 3:9: "He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish."
When "Christians" protest a man's funeral with signs that read, "God hates gays," they are sending a message that God can't love everyone. But, as with most problems, that idea isn't Biblical, and the Old Testament book of Hosea paints a much different picture.
The book tells of the life of the prophet Hosea, who was commanded by God to marry an adulterous woman (possibly a prostitute, though it's unclear). She bears him several children and there are indications that hint the children may not have even been his. She whores herself out, has a few kids, and Hosea is expected to take them all in.
Not your average fairytale.
Here's the real catch. Repeatedly throughout the book, God equates Hosea's wayward wife with the nation of Israel. In the third chapter, after Hosea's wife has left him again, God says to the prophet, "Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another and is an adulteress. Love her as the LORD loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods . . . " (3:1).
Did you catch what God said? "As the LORD loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods." The Israelites turn their backs on Him, but He loves them anyway. We turn our backs on Him, but He loves us anyway.
God does not hate you, even though you deserve it.
We forget this in our churches. We believe we can earn his love, and we believe that he hates those who fail to do so. His love for us is not based on our paltry attempts to impress, or the lofty ideals and philosophies to which we cling. Rather, God loves us simply because He chooses to love us. Though often entwined, love and approval are not the same thing when it comes to God, and to believe otherwise is foolish and sinful.
So if breaking God's Law, whether by attitude or action, demands payment - hell - then what does that mean for us? How do we reconcile the idea that God doesn't want us to go to hell, but we end up there, anyway?
These are tough questions, and many Christians try to avoid them, but it's time we stopped being afraid of tough questions. Either our faith can be defended, or it can't, and frankly, if it can't, we need to find a new faith.
Let's back up to the beginning of things, and I think we'll find the answer to these questions unfold in a surprising manner. In the third chapter of the Book of Genesis, we find that the first humans were not so unlike ourselves, as they attempted to put their desires before God's command:
The Lord God commanded the man, 'You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will surely die . . . When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it (Genesis 2:16-17; 3: 6).
The result of this? Physical and spiritual death - the sin eating through all of us - invaded mankind (interestingly, the sin wasn't eating the fruit, but desiring a wisdom apart from God). Romans 1:18 puts it this way: "The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men."
The point of all of this is that there are only two ways to fulfill God's law, as found in the Books of Moses. The first is to keep it completely and fully in both attitude and action. The second is to face God's wrath. The Law will be fulfilled, and you and I cannot escape that. One way or another, for each and every one of us, the requirements of God's Law will be met.
Here's the bad news: none of us can keep the Law. Consider the following verses:
Psalm 14 tells us that there is "no one who does good."
Romans 3:21 says that "all have sinned."
None of us have kept the Law.
Since none of us have kept it, all of us deserve hell. Atheists, Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, even Christians. All of us. No one on earth is righteous enough to deserve heaven.
So let's beat a dead horse for a second. There are two ways to fulfill, but none of us have managed the first way. Therefore, there is only one option left: wrath. God's wrath is the only way to atone for (pay back) sin, According to the Bible, you and I are headed for hell.
How's that for nihilistic?
But here's where Grace (what you'll often hear called The Gospel) comes into play. Now, "Gospel" is Greek for "good news." Is the fact that we're headed for hell good news? Not even close.
What Christians usually call "The Good News" has been downplayed as of late. We tend to think of it as some form of doctrine or belief system, which it (sort of) is, but that dulls the impact of what it actually is.
The Gospel is, in fact, a person. Jesus Christ - who should be the center of Christianity - claimed to be "good news." In John 14:6, he said, "I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me" (emphasis mine). What does that mean? Somehow this Jesus guy claimed to be able to get us past the hell we deserve, and into a brand new life of truth.
How is that accomplished? Through Grace.
The very essence of Christianity is not the Ten Commandments or obedience to the Levitical Law, because you and have already broken most of them. The heartbeat of the Christian faith is grace, which is God viewing man's inability to measure up, and doing it for us. Christianity is not a religion where we cross every "t" and dot ever "i"; it is a relationship where God does it for us. Grace, simply put, is God's love. We deserve hell, but God, in his love, offers a way out.
True Love Isn't Blind
"God is not Mr. Magoo."
The pastor paused and the church chuckled. As amusing as it was, the comment is an important one: grace does not cause God to become blind to sin.
Grace does not mean that God simply looks the other way and ignores sin, either. Remember, our sin must be atoned for by God's wrath.
We must never forget this: grace is not the forgiveness of sins, but the substitution of sins. Grace is God, displaying himself through the person of Jesus Christ, fulfilling the Law by keeping it completely and then taking the wrath for it. Christ took God's wrath in your place.
Consider Colossians 2:13-14: "When you were dead in your sins and in . . . your sinful nature, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having cancelled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross." In Titus 2:14, Paul writes that Jesus "gave himself up for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own." You didn't keep the Law, but He took the wrath.
The Great Escape
The imposing figure stoops down, inhaling deeply from his pipe, his multi-tentacled face writhing and squirming. "Do you fear death?" His question hangs in the air. "Do you fear that dark abyss? All your deeds laid bare, all your sins punished? I can offer you an escape . . . Join my crew and postpone judgment: one hundred years before the mast!" He stoops to look into the eyes of a dying man. "Will ye serve?" The man decidedly says yes (Bill Nighy, Pirates of the Carribbean: Dead Man's Chest).
Davy Jones may be one of the greatest characters ever created. He's poetic in his creepiness; every word hangs in the air, giving him a presence not easily captured in an animated character. Of course, as poetic as his words are, the offer still has a problem: it only delays the inevitable. In the end, judgment for sin still takes place, and the guilty verdict still read.
Jesus says something similar to us, but his promise is not a delay. The judgment is not postponed, but fulfilled; the guilty verdict is read and the sentence served by someone else. "Follow me," Jesus says, "and your sentence will have been served for eternity."
Sounds good, right? Perhaps too good. So much so, that you don't buy it. That's fine, you don't have to; it's certainly your choice, but the Law will be fulfilled. You can either let him do it for you, or you can attempt to do it yourself. If you want to do it yourself, though, remember that you've already lost the opportunity, because sin is just as much a part of you as breathing. You and I cannot save ourselves.
This is the great claim of Christianity. For Christ to claim that he is the "living water" (John 4:10), the "light of the world" (John 8:12), and the only means to God (John 14:6) is astonishing by itself, but those are not his only claims. His greatest claim is that he is God. His greatest promise is that he will abide in us. He calls his disciples "children," speaking to them with an intimacy that breaks down any imagined barriers put into place by mankind and its rules. His claim is the most startling claim to ever be uttered by human lips, and it is - to paraphrase C.S. Lewis - either completely absurd or completely true, but it is not - cannot be - something else. We cannot reinterpret what he said to make it more tasteful: either Jesus is God, or he isn't.
Now, if he isn't, then we still have the problem of sin. If he is, though, then our sins have been atoned for and none of us, no matter what we've done, need to go to hell, and all of us, no matter what we've done, can walk in a relationship with God right now, today. We still deserve a life apart from God, but the sentence has been served on our behalf. Let's suppose you murdered someone close to me, and at your trial you received the death penalty. Now let's suppose I'm in the courtroom at your sentencing, and, though your crime was against me, I volunteered to take your place and receive the lethal injection. You deserve it, but I serve it.
This is no fairytale with giants climbing beanstalks or mischievous spirits granting wishes. This isn't even a pie-in-the-sky ideal where the good are rewarded and the bad punished. Either it is real, or it isn't. If it isn't, then our world is stuck in a selfishness from which it cannot escape. If it is true, however, then we find that the God of the universe has done the unthinkable: loved us, come down here amongst us, and died for us.
We can accept or we can reject, but we cannot dwell in half-hearted, lukewarm ignorance. Paul writes in his second letter to the church at Corinth:
So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: the old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people's sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ's behalf: be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God (5:16-21).
God does not approve of our sin, but because of His enormous love and grace, He reconciles us to Him, doesn't count our sins against us, and declares us righteous. This should change our lives, altering our thoughts, our actions, and our relationships. It gives us a purpose and a value not found in the temporary things of this world.
It gives us life.
So the question that will now haunt you until you either answer it or die is this: what do you believe?
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