There is often, I think, a sort of negative
connotation today when we talk about the word, "born again." It is those people, not the sort you would
want as close friends or as a co-worker or even fellow you overhear while on
your lunch break. Media paints a picture of a crazed zealot with little to no
rationality and even less of any evidential ground to stand on. And yet, from
the beginnings of an itinerant teacher who spent more time shaping wood than talking
to the masses, we have a movement that has shaped all of history. From a small
offshoot of a small religion during a time when the emperor was a god, de facto
and de jour, we have a literal lifestyle and cultural change that started as a weed
and ended up becoming a red oak. I speak of course, about the religion of those people, and what's more, I speak
about just what that identity means
You might be thinking, "If there are so
many religions in the world, how can I know which one is right? Can't they all
be right?" And to that I say, if a religion says the sky is one color and
another says it is another color, can they both be correct? I don't mean this
in the sense of, it's blue during the day, black at night, and red in between; for
they all affirm true things, but with different conditions. But rather, I mean
to say that one religion says the sky is blue and another says the sky is polka
dots (the classic red on white, of course). Can they both be right? There are
seeds and points of truth in many, many, things, but Truth with a capital T,
must affirm the right thing in all places. When you think about it, that makes
sense; by definition, a definition is a limiting and thereby defining
characteristic of something. If what it says about something is correct, then
no matter how much you like polka dots, the sky must be blue.
And
so, we go back to that question: if so many, then how do we know which say true
things, and which is True? The answer is simple: the differences. Now, there
are probably more differences than similarities between many religions in the
world, but that is not what I'm talking about. There is a distance to be
bridged, that is, our own creaturely finitude with the vastness of eternity. So
difference to those bridges is this: the myriad religions in the world say do
this and become enlightened, or avoid this and go to heaven, or give all you
have and God will have mercy on you. Christianity does not say this, on the
contrary, it denies that entirely and completely. The apparently a-rational Christian
asks, "Can you really stack blocks high enough to get to infinity?" For
this is what doing, avoiding, paying, praying, running through hoops actually
entails: a finite creature doing finite things in order to reach the infinite. Now,
the difference, identity, and definition become a little bit more clear.
The
Christian asks, "if we really want to reach that eternity, in a word,
Heaven, shouldn't we rely on the person in charge, and not ourselves?" And
this is the essence of Christianity. The bridge that needs to span the gap
between us and eternity is one no amount of elbow grease can build. In fact, we
broke that bridge because of wrong doing and sin. This bridge is at the same
time relational between us and God and judicial in the sense of law breaking;
so with the shattering of the crossing, we have lost our relationship and peace
with God. And yet, this interesting and deep and forgiving God deemed it fit to
make a way to repair that bridge and to cover our sins, and this is way is
found in Jesus.
With
a love so abounding fierce and with a gentleness intimate to each and every one
of us, Jesus has repaired that bridge by the sacrifice of himself in our place.
He took our place in sating the punishment for breaking the law, and he is the
go-between in making right that relationship man had so fully broken. I have
been saying it lightly, but now I make it explicit: the separation because of
sin enacted by man has dire repercussions, namely death. But, the love and
mercy and sacrifice that Jesus did to set us free also has a great
repercussion:life. This woodworker died on our accounts, on one of the simplest
wooden structures you can make, no less. And history says he rose from the
dead. And history points to his Godhood. History says the offshoot (which was
better off sticking to the main body!) proclaimed such. With little to gain and
much to lose, they said this, and suffered for it, and many died for it. The
point and great Truth is this: toss away your building blocks, you cannot span
the bridge to eternity. Trust in Jesus, in his sacrifice, and in his great
merciful love.
And
now, we see how this new life has come about; this crazy notion of being born
again. No, it is not a physical and literal thing, though in a very real sense, it is. It is the difference between looking toward a destination and
looking back at where you've come from. It is the difference between trying to
fix something, and enjoying what has been repaired. There are many people who have
this sudden shift in reference in their life, but I am sure there are just as
many that don't, myself included. As far back as I can remember, I knew that
building blocks would not cut it towards repairing that bridge; and I also knew
that the only one that could repair it was Jesus. Jesus Christ saves, trust in
him. I don't remember when, I don't remember how, I don't remember where. But
with great confidence, I say that it has happened for me. It is my sincerest
prayer that it happen with you. Trust on Christ's sacrifice and his love and
his identity to rescue you from what we cannot save ourselves from.
