Tyler Johnson, MDiv
Tyler is an engineer, teacher, and former pastor. He loves to explore truth through God’s word and God’s works. He lives in Kansas with his wife and four children and spends what little free-time he has practicing tae kwon do and pondering the mysteries of light.
Growing up in the church, I don’t recall having great angst about going to hell. I imagine that for some Christians, this likely suggests that I didn’t grow up in a church that really preached the Gospel. That would be a ridiculous supposition, since it assumes that the Gospel of Jesus is primarily meant to instill fear in a person, rather than hope. Speaking of hope, I do recall being terrified by the idea of heaven. Actually, not heaven so much as eternity. I would lay in bed as a child and imagine walking up an infinite spiral ramp that had no beginning and no end. It was a stark scene: the ramp was concrete, it was dimly lit, there weren’t many people around and very little to add color or character to the surroundings. It was deeply unnerving. Now, this image has nothing to do with the images of Heaven that we get in Revelation 21-22, so I don’t give it much weight as a proper image of our eternal hope, but to be complete honest, if I really try to imagine eternity, it still gives me the willies.
A few weeks ago, I wrote a post that explored the idea of sin using the metaphor of addiction rather than the more common legal metaphor. Shortly after I wrote that post, I realized that this shift in thinking about sin would have implications for how we thought about salvation too. Because if sin is simply is about following the rules, then salvation becomes a simple calculation of how well the rules were followed during one’s life. But if sin is something more like an addiction to things that don’t ultimately satisfy or bring life, then what does salvation look like?
In my later growing up years, I remember coming to the realization that the most religious people in first-century Palestine all missed the fact that Jesus was their long-awaited Messiah. It was an uncomfortable realization that those who recognized Jesus for who he truly was were almost all outside the religious establishment (e.g. Matthew 8:5-10, Luke 4:14-30) because I was deep within the modern religious establishment. I was the son of a pastor who was the son of a pastor. I had grown up in the church. I knew the Bible and the traditions well. In other words, I was on track to have all the credentials of a Pharisee or a Teacher of the Law, the very people that argued the most with Jesus, and those who ultimately had him killed. (Since that time, I have gone to seminary, graduated with High Honors and become ordained, so my credentials as one of the religious leaders who rejected Jesus have only grown.)
Through all these years, the question that has stuck with me the most, that has motivated my faith, my reading of the Bible, and my understanding of discipleship is this: “Would I actually recognize Jesus, if he came and started preaching and teaching in my town today?”
There are some important corollaries to that question. Like, “If Jesus was teaching something that seemed to threaten my understanding of the Bible, or my ministry, how would I react?” Or, “If Jesus called me out for distorting the Gospel and misrepresenting God (see Matthew 23), would I accept the correction, or dig in my heels and use whatever power was at my disposal to silence him?”
These are not easy questions to answer. For all of Christian history, there have been people who have come along with different interpretations of the Gospel. There have always been prophets and false-prophets. There have always been silver-tongued snakes who preach a compelling, but thoroughly false message of hope. There have always been those who are in it for their own glory, those who are well-intentioned but off-track, and those who are faithful messengers of the true Gospel.
Doesn’t it stand to reason that if we have difficulty discerning the true messengers of the Gospel in our world today, then we would have difficulty recognizing Jesus if he came and worked among us?
If so, doesn’t salvation depend, at least in part, on us developing the ability to recognize Jesus when we see him?
In other words, isn’t salvation less about following the rules, and more about learning to discern what is really good from what is really evil and then habituating ourselves to choose the good? Isn’t it more about developing a taste for the things that truly satisfy and give life, so that when the Creator of Life comes, we might have the discernment to accept the good that he offers? After all, the Pharisees and the Teachers of the Law were well-versed in the rules. They followed them to the “t,” but they still missed the gift of Life that Jesus came to bring them. Shouldn’t discipleship, however we define it, develop in us the ability to recognize Jesus when he shows up? Shouldn’t it teach us to choose the things that bring life, rather than the things that lead to death?
But again, this is much more complicated than we want to admit. Every Christian tradition believes they are doing it right, that they are truly being faithful to Jesus, that they are faithfully following his teachings. They must believe this, or they wouldn’t have much reason to claim the title “Christian.” But at the same time, there is enough diversity, difference, and disagreements within the Church that they can’t all be doing it right. I’m pretty certain that Jesus isn’t going to return and judge everybody by whatever standards they’ve decided are important for themselves. Fundamentalist Christians aren’t going to be judged by how literally they interpreted the Bible. Liberal Christians aren’t going to be judged by how ardently they supported the latest social justice cause. Churches aren’t going to be judged by how many followers they had, or how many upper middle class families filled their pews. None of these things actually shape us to more easily recognize Jesus and to more readily accept what he offers. We are addicted to things that do not satisfy or bring life.
What then can be done? How can we learn to recognize and accept the good things that God desires for us? I believe there are a few solid things that we can lean on.
Dependence - God is Life, the Creator and Source of all that is good and all that satisfies. We were never created to be autonomous individuals. The pursuit of being self-made is a pursuit away from the goodness God wants for us. We were created to be fully dependent on God. The more we pursue wealth, security, comfort, control, the more we disciple ourselves toward a false narrative that only brings fear, anxiety, and animosity. Our hope rests in being fully dependent on God. If we can’t be open and vulnerable about our real struggles with the person sitting next to us in church, if we can’t ever ask for help or accept charity, if we only see mercy as weakness, how are we learning to be the dependent creatures that we were created to be?
Humility - God is the infinite source of all that is. He is above and beyond anything we can think or say. Ultimately, our very best theology is just a smudgy shadow of the Truth that is God. We were never meant to have all the answers. Our desire to fully explain God, or this messy world we live in, is just another consequence of our desire to be independent creatures, for if we have all the answers, God becomes something we can manipulate and shape and use for our own purposes. The lack of humility in the Christian church has led to Christians performing, or acquiescing to, some of the most un-Jesus-like acts of all time. This is just as true on the “progressive” side of the Christian church as it is on the “conservative” side. Our hope rests in being wrapped up in unending wonder at the infinite goodness, grace, mercy, justice, beauty, love, and truth that is God. How are we learning to marvel at all that we don’t understand?
Sacrifice - There is no denying that at the core of God’s nature is Love, and that God’s Love is such that it will die for its beloved rather than kill for her. This is precisely what we see in the life of Jesus. Yet our world thrives on the narrative of competition, kill or be eaten. And whether we like it or not, we have all been shaped by this narrative and have accepted it at some level. We are all more prone to kill (figuratively or literally) for what we think is right than we are to be killed for it (again, figurately or literally). And there are plenty of Christians who explicitly teach that this is God’s will, completely ignoring everything Jesus taught and did. The opposite of true Love is something more pernicious than hate. It is selfishness. Selfishness divides and isolates, and because we have accepted a narrative of selfish competition, loneliness and depression are epidemics in our world today. Our hope is found only through losing. Whoever loses their life will find it. The word “Life” here could also be translated “soul.” What are you losing your life/soul to? What are you gaining instead?
When it comes to salvation, I have found no better source for contemplation and conviction (outside the Bible) than C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce. It is here that he makes the case that the doors of Hell are locked from the inside. God’s salvation is offered to everyone. But what happens if the Good that He offers is not what we expect? What happens if our pursuits of security, control, comfort, convenience, influence, etc. are all preparing us to respond more like the Pharisees, than the disciples? In my reading of the Gospels, the people who recognized Jesus most readily were those who were the most practiced in the arts of dependence and humility.
By the grace of God, may we also be so practiced, even if it means failing by this world’s standards.