The Gospel

            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.