Skip to main content

Independent Day

 If God is God and I am not, and if God's Word is true, then what God says about me (and the rest of the human race) is also true, including where it says that my biggest problem is that, in my natural state, I want to "be like god."  I want to run my life my way, on my terms.  I want to justify myself, build my own meaning and identity and sense of righteousness.  And so in this sense, apart even from any idea of a God who judges, God is a threat to me.  His sheer mysterious existence is an unwelcome reminder that I am a creature, that I am not God.  I do not possess the answers to all the mysteries.  His eternal being as the One who holds all the answers, who rules over human history without explaining Himself to me, and to whom I owe my existence and allegiance, threatens my delusions of self-mastery and demand to be autonomous.  What will He do with me?  Rather than wanting to humbly bow my knee, in my flesh I want him out of my way.  This is why it is much easier for us to create versions of God that suit our liking: a God who always affirms and supports our dreams and aspirations, a God who exists to build our self-esteem, a God who always has amazing, uplifting plans for us, a God who is our co-pilot, our partner in our quest to self-mastery, a religion of niceness and good will toward men, where God steps back and only exists to make us feel good about ourselves and to enjoy sentiment.  But when we are confronted with the true God, the God who doesn't operate on our agenda, who exposes something in us, who pokes holes in our plan of me, we want Him blamed and taken out.  This is what happened to Jesus.  


This was no surprise to God, however.  He knew this about us, ever since our first parents.  We see it still today.  We do not want to be told "no".  We want to be able to live as the masters of our lives, with nobody telling us no, with nobody saying there are consequences.  Our society idolizes self, not wanting to know that self only exists for the purpose of serving others and worshiping God.


The only answer to this problem of ours is found where God meets man on the cross of Jesus Christ.  This is where our bloodlust for self-actualization is confronted with the One who willingly suffered to absorb it and all of our sin in Himself, who gave Himself up to break that curse, to liberate us from our addiction to self-allegiance, to absorb God's just judgment on race gone astray, and rose from the dead to create new people with new hearts for a new creation, a new age, an age that is in one sense already here but in another sense still to come to fruition.  With our old man with his plans left to die with Jesus on the cross, our walls of separation and self-justification are torn down and true (though imperfect) unity is possible, as we look forward to the day when He returns to complete what was begun and put an end to this age, which is passing away before us.

On this independence day, I am grateful for the country in which I live.  But I am more grateful to the One who rescued me from my inner craving for independence from Him.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Tale of Two Stories

 Martin Luther, the 16th century German reformer, is one of my heroes.  Among many things, Luther taught that there are two fundamental stories in this life:  the glory story and the story of the cross.  The glory story is the natural story of all of us, fueled by our desire to secure some kind of identity and security and significance for ourselves in the face of what we know is there: our finite limitations and, ultimately, our death.  The story of the cross, on the other hand, teaches us that the glory story is essentially a lie.  There is no path to self-glory, to self-security.  It's a myth, a closed circle that ends in death.  In fact, my addiction to my glory story is my real problem.  It chains me to myself, curves me inward selfishly.  But what the cross story offers us, in our union with Christ, is freedom through death to the glory story and resurrection to the new creation where we now belong to Someone and something bigger t...

CRAS TIBI

I remember kneeling down closer to make out the Latin inscription on the grave stone, as we all walked about the Charter St. Cemetery in Salem. This particular stone belonged to Christian Hunter (died March 18, 1676), the first wife of Captain Richard More, the only one of the Mayflower Pilgrims to take up residence in and be buried in Salem, MA. The words etched just below the primitively macabre winged-skull read, "HODIE MIHI, CRAS TIBI". My Latin is a little rusty, so thanks to Google I was able to translate into the sobering English phrase: "Today me, tomorrow you." It's one of those things that stops you in your tracks and cuts through all the layers of "stuff" that constantly occupies our minds and hearts. It makes me think of what the writer of Ecclesiastes said (Ecc 7:2): It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart. As on...

The Cross and Our Hurts

In the suffering and death of Christ on the cross, we have three loud voices spoken to our hurts.  First, we have a voice that understands what it is to suffer.  He was rejected unfairly.  He was the object of ridicule and whispers behind the back.  He was betrayed.  He suffered an agonizing death.  He identifies with our hurt, and, as those who belong to Him, we identify with His.  Some only want to stop at this, however, and therefore don't find what it takes to heal.  They want to be affirmed, validated (which, depending on the wound, can be understandable) but not to move on and change.   Second, there is a loud voice that proclaims from the cross, "This was required for YOU."  The cross of Christ is the public indictment of our sinfulness.  We see that we also *cause* hurts, even out of the hurts we've received.  We see that we also transgress against God and neighbor.  We need forgiveness, too.  In this way...