salvation

"...and in His substitutionary death on the cross He made provision for the redemption of men from sin."

The above quote is from Eric Geiger's Christ Fellowship church websites statement of beliefs. I recently read a quote by him which stated that if one's church does not look like one's city, the church is not following Christ. He leads several mega-churches in Miami and on his website the most prevalent thing is the sale of his book about "Simple Church", which teaches leaders how to bring about spiritual transformation in their congregation. Geiger recently blogged a brochure of "stats" from Christ Fellowship, which includes exactly how many persons attend on a Sunday (around 1000) and how many were "saved" at a given service.

When I first became a Christian (or thought I had through one single thought recognizing that I believed in Christ and his saving work on the cross), I was extremely confused by theological statements like the one above. There I was, now a Christian, a disciple of Christ, following Him and loving Him. Conversely, I was sinning, in thought, word, and deed. So I was left feeling guilty and confused, and I certainly was not growing the "relationship with Jesus Christ" which seemed to be the pinnacle of faith in God and His Son. In fact, at times I questioned if Jesus was really my "personal Saviour". This is the rhetoric I was taught, and it was all I had to work with at the time. How could Christ have died for me, to redeem me from sin, and yet I was actively sinning while confessing that I believed in a God who took my sins away, and "washed me white as snow". I was far from white as snow, and knew it. And because I felt I had somehow been mistaken in my allegiance to Christ, since my sin was not gone, I was at a standstill.

I spent a lot of time listening to sermons and Christian rocks songs that kept saying the same sort of things over and over. If I said A, I would get B. If I really believed C, I would really receive D. If Christ died, then I was "cleansed". The equations I was learning were simple and had only one end result, and they were supposed to be "sufficient for me" as the song goes. I was also taught that if I heard that one sermon (so make sure you're on the edge of your seat), and "got the message" from God then my heart would be transformed and I would be a new woman, ready to accept my mission from Christ. Oh, and don't forget that your mission is ALWAYS partly to be a bouncy, talkative greeter or Sunday school teacher. Then, you're off to the mission field to as happily and confidently share Jesus. But then I was very young, shy and quiet, and not really sure what was going on. I heard how those truly in love with Christ must get up and give their testimony about how God changed their heart. Yet my heart wasn't changed! It was easy, though, to listen to a cute sermon with some well-placed jokes and then get swept up in the emotional waves of music that demanded, comfortably so, nothing from me. I could go to whatever church I felt more comfortable in, as well. At home, all I had to do was read my bible for five minutes a day, listen to music that would lift me up, and tell Jesus I loved Him a lot through my personal prayer.

The first time I was really uncomfortable in a church was when it all came back to this salvation thing. I was at a church that claimed many "new and revolutionary" things. The day in question was one where several children were ushered forward by their parents, and they took the microphone from the Hawaiian shirt clad pastor and said awkwardly with some coaching that they had accepted Jesus Christ into their heart. Then, a few homeless people were brought up the same way. Each proclamation set off a chorus of "Amen!" and Hallelujah!" No amen ringing out was mine, since saying amen was an agreement and I did not agree. Hands were waving in the air, women were crying, and hugs were being freely given. Then the music started, songs of praise for the new disciples who had become Christians that day. The music went on for a long time. I stared at the faces of the newly Christian and wanted to weep. Had they begun down the same path as I, one of false actions to fit in, and confused, guilty prayers to a God that they weren't sure was still around since that glittering day of "acceptance"? Would they sin, and wonder where the Jesus Christ of their personal salvation had gone?

I've learned a lot since then. Leaving non-denominational churches helped. Where I found less freedom to just "hang out with God", I discovered a God that existed ineffably. I didn't have to have some instant conception of who and what God is. This type of understanding and holiness is not met easily or quickly.

Salvation that revolves around the idea of "substitutionary death... to make provision for...redemption from sin" is so empty to me now. Not that I understand much, but the Pascha hymn resounds throughout everything I know, and it's not confusing at all. Christ trampled death by death. He didn't magically take away that inclination to sin that we were so good at fostering, He didn't make our ancestry non-existent. The salvation that I trust is one that speaks of the end of death, which is the great end result of sin. The equation is a bit more complicated, and not necessarily cause and effect.

I hope what I'm hammering at here makes a wee bit of sense.



On other fronts, Elijah, who is 3, asked me what New Years is, since we're going to celebrate it with extended family. I drew a blank. I've never really done the resolution thing, and my family didn't watch the ball drop and what not. I finally told him that it's just a celebration of time continuing and the year changing from 2010 to 2011. The most important thing to him was when I said his 4th birthday would be in the new year. In 2011, Ella will be 2, Eli will be 4, Zach will be 9, and Beth will be 8. And we'll have a new baby to love. Being a slightly overzealous catechumen, admittedly, I'm excited about the new baby being baptized.

It will be a full year. Tonight, slow cooked pork and sauerkraut! There's something to celebrate.