What Must I Do To Be Saved?

A good friend of mine was processing how to talk to another friend about salvation, and asked:

"How does one get saved, born again? Is it as simple as saying a prayer?"

That got me thinking... and I just thought I'd re-post my response.

"That's the exact question people humbly came to Jesus with. The rich young ruler, Nicodemus, etc. and Jesus answered them all differently... "Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the Pharisees...", "You must be born again", "Go, sell all that you have and give it to the poor, and then you'll find salvation", etc.

That doesn't give you a quick answer, but simply affirms that you're asking the right question. There is no formula.

That said, for me, part of it is believing God really loves and likes me, that He personally cares for and knows me and wants me to experience all the good things of being reunited with Him, and in that process, He MUST transform me from the inside out to make me capable of living a spiritual life, of participating in the new kingdom of redemption. It takes new eyes and a new heart, a completely new way of viewing and interacting with the world... So part of what being born again is, out of trust in God's good heart towards us, surrendering control, and giving Him access to our lives, to invite Him in to bring new life, and hope and peace. And it might happen in one monumental occasion, or it might be a slow process...

All of that is rooted in Jesus Christ. Which is ironic since I didn't mention Him. But He demonstrates and displays, as living "proof" of God's heart towards us, in dying for us for the forgiveness of our sins, but coming back to victorious resurrected life, to be in and through us, deliverance FROM sin and death.

How do we experience this? Saying a prayer? Getting baptized? I'm not sure. Praying is crucial, in my opinion. Not for the specific words, but simply the humility and openness that prayer requires—we're talking to the air! But that's the kind of faith that moves God. Even if we can't see Him, for us to call out to Him, in our need for true life, that is the heart He is after and rewards with disclosing Himself to us in ways we can handle..."

I've been studying the book of Romans with my small group from church. The first chapter launches into an in-depth discourse on the depravity of all humankind. Is that the correct place to start? Not for the Apostle Paul, obviously, because he wrote the book in a particular order for a reason. But for our culture today, and for the needs and perspective of individuals, is that a necessarily element to start with? Was I correct to assert that there is no formula?

Some of the questions I ask on this blog seem like they are really elementary. I think I'm questioning the method, not the truth. I do believe we are all sinful, flawed, broken, bent towards selfishness and self-reliance. On our own, we don't live our lives as an out-pouring of self-less love, participating with God in glorifying His name and being part of the answer to Jesus' famous prayer, "Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven." But where my question comes in, is when these truths are thrown around so grace-lessly. I hope there isn't a formula. It doesn't seem like there should be. Jesus didn't answer those questions with the same thing every time, nor did He heal people with the same means every time.

As Christians, I think it is imperative, for the sake of Jesus' name, that we learn to listen more, and understand the people we are communicating with, to know where they are coming from and to listen to God's Spirit, somehow, and determine how to best communicate the Good News to someone. And it takes constantly receiving the Good News in my own life if I'm to be a faithful, life-giving example of what the Good News really means.

God Told Me

An interesting article over on Relevant Magazine, about how people use the phrase "God told me" and what it means to hear from God or claim things in His name.

A thought-provoking quote from the article, by R.T. Kendall:

"How do we misuse God's name when we claim He told us something? With our intent. Most often we mention Him for one reason: to elevate our own credibility. It is not His name we are thinking of, it is our reputation. Adding the weight of God's name to our words gives us authority and respectability. But the truth is, we're not thinking of God's name and glory when we do this—we're thinking of our own."

Maybe that's not always true, but I'm sure it's true a lot.

Has God ever spoken clearly to you? What does it look like for you? Growing up in a Baptist church has meant a lot of unlearning when it comes to God speaking. There was a very deep us-versus-them mentality, and maybe there were good intentions, wanting to avoid extremes or abuses of certain, typically, charismatic gifts like prophecies, but for the most part, they succeeded in reducing "God's voice" to discerning principles from scripture that would give general wisdom in how to live. No personal revelation, no specific guidance, no unique movements in our spirits from God. Thankfully, I think I'm starting to see that there is something to the idea of God speaking to us. God repeatedly spoke to people in the Old Testament, in a variety of ways. He spoke audibly during Jesus' lifetime, and people in the New Testament had dreams, visions and heard God speaking to them. There's no biblical evidence to support the idea that God went mute or in His spite, refuses to talk to us individually, now that Jesus came and left, and we're "just" left with the Holy Spirit. I know I am only speaking from my experience, so I am not trying to condemn churches in general, or even any denominations, because I have only been a part of a handful of various churches, and I know my experiences are in some sense unique to me and the times and places I was in.

That said, it's been interesting to seek God in a way that allows for, hopes for and expects God to communicate with me personally. There have only been a handful of times where I felt like God "spoke" to me in my spirit, or impressed something very specific on my heart/mind. Those things were never contradicting to scripture and always resulted in peace, edification, encouragement, affirmation, etc. It is an odd thing—humbling, really—to imagine God's greatness, how transcendent and holy He is, and that in His love for us, for me, that He would lean close and whisper to our spirit what we need to hear.

I want to make more time to listen.

What is Christianity?

I've had a lot of questions rattling around in my brain lately about what Christianity is. There are so many caricatures and stereotypes of what Christians are or should be like. The holier-than-thou types and Bible-thumpers, the crazy street preachers, the stiff, boring type, the progressive champion of social justice causes, the über hip trendy kind, the sort that keep Christian bookstores in business by filling their wardrobe with cheesy bastardizations of corporate logos infused with Christian phrases, the fanatical right-wing political type blaming natural catastrophes God's wrath on a nation's past sins, the seeker-friendly type who tend to be really wishy-washy, etc. etc. I don't mean anything negative by calling out these stereotypes—just trying to illustrate the gamut of images that could come to someone's mind when they hear that someone is a Christian.

I know Jesus is important. In a way that is hard to describe or articulate, I know that Jesus Christ's life, death, resurrection and ascension are all ridiculously critical to wrestle with. In an equally difficult to communicate way, I feel as though I am genuinely interacting with God when I pray, sometimes. There's definitely something spiritual/supernatural to it. Other times, Christianity feels more like a system of principles—a worldview, as clever apologists would say. It's a proper understanding of reality and what the world is really like. At times in my life, Christianity was simply the ticket to avoid going to hell. It was believing the right things, saying the right things, doing the rights things, looking the right way, avoiding the wrong places, etc. And other times, it was simply a different set of friends who did more wholesome things with their time.

Right now, I feel like a lot of the theology that I've learned over the years in a Christian high school, Bible classes and chapel five days a week at a Christian liberal arts college, 20 years of listening to sermons on Sunday mornings (not every Sunday!), has become kind of hollow. Not very life-giving. Most of my Christianity, I confess, has been rooted in believing the right things. The more right things you could say that you believed, the closer to the center you got. The safer you were. If you amassed enough biblical knowledge, you could feel pretty confident that you were a good Christian. I mean, people looked to you for answers. And when you're an answer man, you can feel pretty secure in your standing.

Over the years, a lot of those answers have just started sounding empty. Telling someone that God allowed them to experience something deeply painful just to give them an opportunity to learn more about Him doesn't sound loving. Or when you slow down enough to listen to some honest questions from people outside the Christian bubble, you realize that you definitely have an answer, but that it's missing something and what made sense to you before, suddenly feels like it's missing a step in there. Like you took something for granted along the way. Of course, there was a talking snake in the garden... wasn't there?

I guess I feel free within God's love to let down my guard and be honest. Some of this doesn't make sense to me. I'm not asking for God to prove things, or using these questions as an excuse to live however I want and get out from under God's moralistic thumb. I believe with everything in me (I rarely doubt this) that Jesus had to have been from God and that His life, death and resurrection give ridiculously strong evidence—enough to cause me to commit to following Him—that Jesus was who He said He was... And that by believing in Him, trusting Him, committing to living my life like His, as best I know how and through the indwelling presence of His Spirit, that will lead to true Life, now and in the hereafter. All I know is to love people. To be merciful and kind, do what is right and live humbly in the presence of our loving God. I think that the specifics of doctrine and theology are important. They must be or people down the centuries would not have spent their lives studying and copying and dissecting them to find their meanings.

But maybe we've over-complicated it? Maybe Christianity is loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves? Could it really be that simple? And yet, if it is, why is it so difficult to do that well?

Amendment to Post on March Madness

I really do enjoy watching sports and feel like that previous post was very condemning in its tone. It is important for us to examine our lives and see what we're spending our time on, but that will mean different things for different people.

As I thought about what I had typed, it got me thinking about the internet and why we blog. What is my purpose in blogging? I don't want to use blogging to critique the lives of other people. Something about it doesn't seem relational. And if questioning the way other people live, isn't done in the context of community and real friendships, I wonder if it is edifying. If not, it's not worth blogging about. That would be similar to me receiving an anonymous note, condemning things in my life and judging me, without knowing of any trust or love behind it.

Is March Madness Mad?

I read this article on Relevant Magazine today about March Madness college basketball. I was going to comment on it there, but couldn't be concise enough!

I applaud Brett McCracken's desire to see the divine in the mundane. We need to do that more, because I think we do miss out on a lot of that's REALLY going on, because we don't have eyes to see it...

However, some yellow flags were raised in me as I read this, simply because sports, like anything else that has the potential for subconscious addiction (i.e. Facebook, etc.) can be consuming. Even though it's difficult, we need to pay attention to those areas that we have a hard time imagining giving up.

And before I launch into a judgmental tirade about how people idolize sports, I want to check myself. I want to make sure I'm not trying to remove the speck of dust from someone else's eye, oblivious to the plank of wood in my own eye. My goal is not to condemn anyone. I have learned and am continually learning that we, as followers of Jesus Christ, are not called, asked or chosen to be the Holy Spirit for someone else. I am not your conscience, and I don't want to presume to be. So there are a lot of things in this post that I'm not saying. I'm not saying it is sinful to watch sports, or to enjoy sports, or loving to watch sports. I'm not saying someone who loves to watch sports is less spiritual or holy. And, to the point Brett made on the Relevant site, it is good for us as Christians to reclaim the mundane and look for God in all the areas of our lives, from natural beauty to art and yes, even to sports.

Now, I know it's not popular to question what the majority of the culture is doing. ESPECIALLY not as a Christian—that'll get you pegged as "judgmental". None of us want that, though it is inevitable to make judgments on what we see around us. (How we respond to those judgments we make is another issue entirely.) Despite that, I think Christians in America should carefully "examine themselves" and how they spend their time. Not to heap guilt on ourselves, not to live identical lives as the other Christians around us, but to actively engage our minds and hearts to make sure ALL of our lives are in step with how God is leading us.

One thing that stands out is to find balance with this critique of how and why we love sports and what should a Christian's appropriate relationship to it be. I don't want to simply condemn watching sports (or playing them) in some blanket, black-and-white statement, because that could misrepresent the truth of the gospel and what it means to be a Christian.

Is it possible, though, that sports can be an idol in our lives? It's clear that Americans in general love sports and spend a lot of time and money on them. Why is that? Why do so many of us so instinctively love to watch sports? It controls our lives, to some degree. Heaven forbid church goes over and we miss the kickoff of the big game, right? Especially during football season, March Madness, Stanley cup playoffs, the Olympics... we become temporary slaves to the t.v. Is our first response defensive? Hey, there's nothing wrong with watching the Olympics. Anytime someone points out something about the way we live, rebuking or cautioning us, do we listen? Their critique might be completely wrong or misguided, but do we listen? Do we respect the person enough to hear what they are saying and really pray about our actions and see if we're living with a clear conscience? I hope so. I hope I do that. I don't want to lock down on the way I like to live my life and make it impervious to outside critique or examination. If I am truly walking with God with a clear conscience, then I have nothing to fear. So all that is to say, if you love watching sports, please don't feel like I'm condemning you, but do feel like I'm encouraging you to even question and be honest with yourself about these things.

There is nothing sinful about watching sports in and of itself. I think where it can become unhealthy is the amount of time that gets spent on it. There might be other considerations, like the negative emotions that we might vicariously experience when "our" team loses an important game. But I think what makes me sad or makes me question this in general is how much time and energy Christians seem to spend on watching college basketball and playing fantasy football, etc.

Do we spend the same energy on things that make us more like Christ? Are we that enthusiastic about anything relating to church, faith or Jesus Christ, or just sports? Is it okay that our faith and relationship with God doesn't really move us that often, compared to how worked up we can get over a game? I'm legitimately asking—it might be apples to oranges. It might not be a healthy expectation to think they should be similar. But maybe it is. I want to be willing to ask those questions. And are we as disciplined with spending time with God regularly, however that works best for us, as we are with following the draft or following our fantasy football team?

I hope these aren't harsh questions. That's not my intention. I think, since I'm not a huge sports fan (aside from following the Boston Red Sox and enjoying watching football on Sundays whenever it's convenient), being on the "outside" makes me notice things that those who are die-hard fans probably take for granted or simply don't pay attention to.

All I'm saying is if Christians in America were as excited and passionate about following Jesus Christ and loving those around them as ardently as they love watching and participating in sports, I think we would have an entirely different reputation and I think the gospel would seem a lot more like life-giving good news, rather than life-draining morality. I mean, even in commenting on this, it makes me feel like I'm intentionally squelching something that people give a lot of their time to. If we have nothing life-giving to offer people in place of the things that typically fuel their lives, then yes, Christianity will sound like a hollow, boring religion. But in place of our addictions, whether to sports, climbing the corporate ladder, being liked or just feeling safe and comfortable providing for our family at the expense of relying on God more often, what if we really experienced the Life Jesus claimed to offer us? What if we had more joy, peace and patience in our lives? What if we had hope and optimism that supernaturally flowed in and through the good and bad experiences in our lives? What if we were people of courage and gentleness, rather than fear and defensiveness?

In the moments when Christians are so caught up in sports, it gets hard to see Jesus sometimes. Maybe for some people it isn't that way, and I genuinely hope so. Again, I don't want to say sports are sinful. I simply wonder at what my life would look like, and what the lives of the Christians around me would look like if our passion for Jesus Christ was as great as, or greater than, our passion for sports. I think that would change some things in this country.

Which would you rather attend—a 3-hour church service in a cathedral or a 3-hour football game in a stadium? I think most Christians in America would pick the football game. Maybe that's okay. Maybe they are different events that should elicit different emotions and it's unfair to compare the two. I still think the question is worth asking... And I still wonder what it would look like for Christians to be as passionate about faith as some are about sports...

*** UPDATED ***

I apologize for the back-handed condemning tone of this post...

Fire From Heaven

This excerpt from "Forgotten God" by Francis Chan:

We are made to be like Elijah, who did not question whether God would show His face that day. He prayed and asked for help, and God sent down fire from heaven in response.

Perhaps you don't need fire from heaven, but peace. Perhaps what you need is wisdom to know which decision to make. Or courage to do the right thing, even though you might lose your job. Or maybe you need love because you feel alone. Or you want people with a similar vision to journey with and support you along the way. Whatever you need, the point is that God is aware of you and your circumstances, and He knows what you really need. He is able to bring theses things, people, and circumstances into your life.

But God is not a coercive God. And though He desires for His children to know peace and love and to have wisdom, I have noticed that often He waits for us to ask.

He desires to do more than 'help out' a bit. He wants to completely transform us. He wants to take a timid heart and set it ablaze with strength and courage, so much so that people know something supernatural has taken place—life change just as miraculous as fire coming down from heaven. He wants to imbue us with His wisdom because He is the 'spirit of wisdom and revelation' (Eph. 1:17; see Isa. 11:2) Even as the Spirit works in us to make us more like Christ, to transform us, He is also patient. This work will not be complete until His kingdom comes in full, though this does not deter Him from working now." (emphasis added by me)

I know these are just Francis Chan's words about what He understands God to be like, but something about the idea that God wants to take my mostly timid heart and set it ablaze with strength and courage... It's easy to assume that God doesn't want the same things I do, or that His desire is less intense than mine... When the reality is that my desires for good, healthy things are weak compared to how strongly God wants the same things for me. And I think that's Chan's point... If I really, deep-down believe that God is good and has my best interest at heart, why don't I ask Him for those things more often? I'm not talking about asking for more stuff—a new car, better job, shorter commute, etc. I'm talking about coming to Him with the scary stuff. Coming to God with my fears and anxiety, asking Him to replace them with courage and peace. Coming to God with my weakness and cowardice, asking for strength and self-control. If I brought the big things, that are real desires for wholeness and a better life, maybe He would be eager to answer those kinds of prayers. Maybe I settle for the things that leave less room for disappointment. I mean, what if I pray for those things, and God doesn't come through and nothing changes? Then what? I think on some level, I don't want to put all those eggs in God's basket, because if God fails... that shatters my reality. That crushes the supporting beams of the whole structure and what would I be left with?

There is something risky about faith. And I wonder, in America especially, if we are so comfortable with our lives and content with adding Jesus into our lives, somewhat like a hobby or a country club membership, that we are afraid to really step out and ask God for the big scary things that will make or break our faith. We are afraid to really trust God with the stuff close to our hearts, so we half-heartedly limp through our Christianity, wishing God was a little more real, but at the same time, not being willing to risk relying on Him to come through for us in a supernatural way that we couldn't explain otherwise. I mean, do we really trust God if we know we have a good chunk of money in our savings account and a solid 401k plan? We can absolutely say we do, and even extol the virtues of what wise stewards we are being with our money, but when push comes to shove—I'm trusting in money, not God. I'm trusting that when calamity strikes and painful situations arise, I have things to fall back on. Sure, I'll pray about it—but not REALLY expecting anything from it. More than likely, I'll consult with friends, rack my brain for the best way to handle the situation and then grit my teeth and make it through. And on the other side of it, I will probably still sigh with slight disappointment, wondering why God wasn't more real to me.

I'm not saying to be stupid and burn your money or "put God to the test" by jumping off buildings or anything like that. I'm simply trying to be honest with the fact that part of why I don't see God's hand more active in my life is because often I simply refuse to cry out to Him in my desperation or need because I'm afraid that He won't answer, and His silence would be utterly devastating. At least when I don't ask, I can fool myself into thinking God is good and dependable, without ever really putting that to the test.

So, although it is ridiculously scary, I think that's the kind of faith God is looking for. He knows we're finite. He knows we can't see Him and it is hard to have faith. But God has given us the scriptures, and the teachings, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ and the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit of God Himself, as a witness to God's heart—He is good. He can be trusted. And maybe God is waiting for hearts that will believe that and where appropriate, step out and risk trusting in His goodness. Maybe God knows if we aren't really relying on Him, and He gave us the things we deeply desire anyway, we would be deeply confused about where they came from, because we never really mustered the courage to ask Him. I don't know...

All this from a deep longing within me to be less timid, to shake off the fear and trepidation that enslaves me to chase after affirmation and validation from the people around me. The deeply encouraging thought in this is that God wants that too. He wants to free me and transform me into the man He's created me to be. The same is true for those of you reading this.

So, that just leaves me face to face with whether or not I will admit these longings for wholeness to God, crying out to Him in a way that desperately needs Him to be there and come through.