Some Jesuses should be rejected.
Often times when I meet atheists and we talk about the god they don’t believe in, we quickly discover that I don’t believe in that god either.
So when we hear that a certain person has “rejected Christ,” we should first ask, “Which Christ?”
Many would respond to the question, “Which Jesus?” by saying that we have to trust that God will bring those who authentically represent the real Jesus into people’s lives to show them the transforming truths of Jesus’s life and message. A passage from Romans 10 is often quoted to explain this trust: “How can they hear without someone preaching to them?” And I wholeheartedly agree, but that raises another question. If our salvation, our future, our destiny is dependent on others bringing the message to us, teaching us, showing us—what happens if they don’t do their part?
What if the missionary gets a flat tire?
This raises another, far more disturbing question:
Is your future in someone else’s hands?
Which raises another question:
Is someone else’s eternity resting in your hands?
So is it not only that a person has to respond, pray, accept, believe, trust, confess, and do—but also that someone else has to act, teach, travel, organize, fund-raise, and build so that the person can know what to respond, pray, accept, believe, trust, confess, and do?
At this point some would step in and remind us in the midst of all of these questions that it’s not that complicated, and we have to remember that God has lots of ways of communicating apart from people speaking to each other face-to-face; the real issue, the one that can’t be avoided, is whether a person has a “personal relationship” with God through Jesus. However that happens, whoever told whomever, however it was done, that’s the bottom line: a personal relationship. If you don’t have that, you will die apart from God and spend eternity in torment in hell.
The problem, however, is that the phrase “personal relationship” is found nowhere in the Bible.
Nowhere in the Hebrew scriptures, nowhere in the New Testament. Jesus never used the phrase. Paul didn’t use it. Nor did John, Peter, James, or the woman who wrote the Letter to the Hebrews.
So if that’s it,
if that’s the point of it all,
if that’s the ticket,
the center,
the one unavoidable reality,
the heart of the Christian faith,
why is it that no one used the phrase until the last hundred years or so?
And that question raises another question. If the message of Jesus is that God is offering the free gift of eternal life through him—a gift we cannot earn by our own efforts, works, or good deeds—and all we have to do is accept and confess and believe, aren’t those verbs?
And aren’t verbs actions?
Accepting, confessing, believing—those are things we do.
Does that mean, then, that going to heaven is dependent on something I do?
How is any of that grace?
How is that a gift?
How is that good news?
Isn’t that what Christians have always claimed set their religion apart—that it wasn’t, in the end, a religion at all—that you don’t have to do anything, because God has already done it through Jesus?
At this point another voice enters the discussion—the reasoned, wise voice of the one who reminds us that it is, after all, a story.
Just read the story, because a good story has a powerful way of rescuing us from abstract theological discussions that can tie us up in knots for years.
Excellent point.
In Luke 7 we read a story about a Roman centurion who sends a message to Jesus, telling him that all he has to do is say the word and the centurion’s sick servant will be healed. Jesus is amazed at the man’s confidence in him, and, turning to the crowd following him, he says, “I tell you, I have not found such great faith even in Israel.”
Then in Luke 18, Jesus tells a story about two people who go to the temple to pray. The one prays about how glad he is to not be a sinner like other people, while the other stands at a distance and says, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
And then in Luke 23, the man hanging on the cross next to Jesus says to him, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom,” and Jesus assures him that they’ll be together in paradise.
So in the first story the centurion gives a speech about how authority works, in the second story the man praying asks for mercy, and in the third story the man asks to be remembered at a future date in time.
In the first case, Jesus isn’t just accepting and approving; he’s amazed.
And in the second case, he states that the man’s words put him in better standing with God than God’s own people.
And in the third case, the man is promised that later that very day he will be with Jesus in “paradise.”
So is it what you say that saves you?
But then in John 3 Jesus tells a man named Nicodemus that if he wants to see the “kingdom of God” he must be “born again.”
And in Luke 20, when Jesus is asked about the afterlife, he refers in his response to “those who are considered worthy of taking part in the age to come.”
So is it about being born again
or being considered worthy?
Is it what you say
or what you are that saves you?
But then, in Matthew 6, Jesus is teaching his disciples how to pray, and he says that if they forgive others, then God will forgive them, and if they don’t forgive others, then God won’t forgive them.
Then in Matthew 7 Jesus explains, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom, but only those who do the will of my Father.”
And then in Matthew 10 he teaches that “those who stand firm till the end will be saved.”
So do we have to forgive others, do the will of the Father, or “stand firm” to be accepted by God?
Which is it?
Is it what we say,
or what we are,
or who we forgive,
or whether we do the will of God,
or if we “stand firm” or not?
But then in Luke 19, a man named Zacchaeus tells Jesus, “Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”
Jesus’s response? “Today salvation has come to this house.”
So is it what we say,
or is it who we are,
or is it what we do,
or is it what we say we’re going to do?
And then in Mark 2, Jesus is teaching in a house and some men cut a hole in the roof and lower down their sick friend for Jesus to heal. When Jesus sees their faith, he says to the paralyzed man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”
His sins are forgiven because of their faith?
Is it what you say,
or who you are,
or what you do,
or what you say you’re going to do,
or