echoes of redemption

A few years ago I read an article about a high school quarterback whose team had never lost a game since he started playing with them. He was about to enter his senior year… and he was miserable.

The pressure of what a loss might mean weighed so heavy on him that winning had no joy – just relief.

If a business builds its identity around always having brilliant products, then every product has to be incredible. If something is even ordinary, the stock prices will fall.

If a pastor builds his entire framework of God around a glitzy smile and the show of God’s financial blessing, he has to deliver that smile every week – and he has to show his own, and the church’s, financial blessing (even in the midst of a recession). Or God no longer exists.

The problem of course is that the world isn’t built to operate in any of these ways.

We will lose a few games.

It takes a mountain of ordinary products to hone in on that one that will revolutionize the world.

Following Christ is just as much about sacrifice and contentment in every situation as it is about blessing.

Which is why humility is so important.

In humility, my own success and failure are no longer the objects of focus.

My attitude is central. Because knowing a God bigger than failure and more precious than success redefines me.

My reactions are central. Because I’m called to live as a representation of what this God would look like on Earth.

And all of the sudden it becomes clear what my role is in a world that isn’t about me.

And the pressure to win, all the time, every day, is gone.

And I am slave to nothing.

It’s been one of my goals over the past six months to find beauty.

It’s easy to be critical.

To make fun of other people’s actions. Things. Looks.

Harder to find beauty everywhere.

Twitter actually made me aware of this. There are two pastors that I follow – they are both extremes. One is negative, judgmental and finds beauty only in the work of his own hands. (And it’s heartbreaking.)

The other finds beauty everywhere. He takes pictures of art, people, his kids – and brags about them. He tells people what stirs his heart to be more like God. (And it’s inspiring.)

So watching them made me very aware of my heart. And it challenged me to think about how I not only talk about, but also perceive the world.

Because there is beauty everywhere.

And when I begin to understand and embrace that, I get to partake a little in the divine. To experience life like I was designed to experience it. To embrace the diversity of a God so much bigger than myself.

And it’s beautiful.

In contemporary American Christianity, it’s not unusual to see people demanding the benefits of resurrection before they make the sacrifice of crucifixion.

It’s spirituality that leads to comfort, convenience and success. A mentality that ultimately demands things here on earth that Jesus himself didn’t have.

Scripture teaches that those who follow Christ are fully paid for by his blood – that the eternal price for sin has been paid – and that payment is not based on our own action.

But there also seems to be a thread that runs through all of Scripture challenging followers of God to push past the destructive and oppressive lives sin can cause and live free and holy lives. (Look here and here for a good first step into this theme.)

The problem of course comes when we realize that sin runs far deeper than actions. (The foundation of legalism is sin = action. Which is why micromanaging someone’s actions = success.) Sin is actually woven into the fabric of who I am. I am greedy. I am lustful. I am angry.

So the idea of Jesus as our model really comes home when we read a verse that says, die to yourself. Because, just as Jesus laid down his life for me, I now must lay down my life for him. If greed, lust and anger are woven into the fabric of who I am, some of me will have to die that he may live in me.

Of course, when I really read resurrection for what it is in Scripture, it becomes apparent that we partially taste resurrection on earth (through the freedom that comes with knowing Jesus), but the full benefits of resurrection aren’t unleashed until we enter heaven.

So maybe spirituality that demands the blessings of the resurrection is the equivalent of the prodigal son’s demands of his father – give me the benefits of your life and death now, before the proper time has come. Maybe spirituality that revolves around comfort, convenience and success is presumptuous, arrogant and toxic.

And maybe, if I began giving my life up each and every day I would discover I had deep connection with Jesus, rich relationships with people and an experiential understanding of both the resurrection and the crucifixion of Christ.