john 6: 44-46 & 2 Corinthians 5: 17-19
Church shoes & Campfires
My mother bought be church shoes—shoes I had to wear to church. They were penny loafers and they absolutely refused to break in. I hated those shoes. I’d squeeze my 8-year-old feet into them and they would torment me all morning. They wouldn’t bend, and my heels came out of them at every step. They felt to me like wooden clogs—some form of punishment to the non-Dutch—and the discomfort was complicated by the necktie and little sport coat I had to wear. Honestly, how is any boy going to meet God dressed like that? You might as well have had me in shackles.
But at church camp in the summer I ran around in shorts and P.F. Flyers. My Hang Ten t-shirt probably had spots from today’s—or yesterday’s—sloppy joes. We worshiped not in the hardened pews of a dark, downtown sanctuary, but outside by the lake with a blazing campfire sending sparks floating up lazily into the starry sky.
The music was led by a couple of guys with guitars and big, homemade, macrame guitar straps. It was woodsy and folksy, and I wouldn’t have known either of those words, but the overall effect was something extraordinary and life-changing. It was my young brush with the Holy.
I suspect the entire contemporary church movement of the 60s, 70s, and beyond grew out of this kind of experience. Boomers sought to recreate the sincerity of the church camp campfire and make it their every-week worship. I grew up with this same sentiment.
At Camp Covenant Cedars in Nebraska, we gathered around the campfire and professed our love of Jesus and one another each summer. The campfire was sacred, a place of prayers, tears, and the honest exchange of unconditional love.
I confess a lifelong regret from that camp. At the campfire (I had just finished 7th grade) we were in the zone of the holy and one of the leaders said something beautiful: “I know I didn’t get to know all of you this week, but I want you to know I love you all and know that we’ll all get that time one day in Heaven.” He was older than me, bigger, and seemed like a tough guy who had no interest in puny, little 7th-graders (which, believe it or not, I was). I was so impressed. My first thought was That guy is a true believer. I was so happy that he wanted to know who I was and spend time with me—even if that is just someday in Heaven.
There were other testimonies, and soon there were tears. Another leader got up and gave us the gospel: God loves every one of you. That’s why he sent his son Jesus; so you’d know he loves you. Everyone needs to be loved and God commands us to love one another.
Friends began hugging friends, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the camp paraiah—the weird kid who everybody avoided all week long. I had avoided him too. He was kind of annoying, but I knew in that moment that God’s love included him completely. I watched him and noticed that no one was hugging him. I saw a tear fall from his cheek to the ground. I knew that I should go over and give him a hug. But, I was too insecure; I was a weak little 7th-grader and didn’t want to share his place at the bottom of the social ladder, which I would if I went and hugged him.
I have totally forgotten most of the people I hugged that night, but that weird kid is now tattooed upon my soul. I’ve been looking for him ever since. I attended Young Life Camps (Castaway and Frontier), directed camp Calvin Crest in Nebraska and spent my summers obsessing over camp. And not just camps, but weekend retreats, mission trips, and other special services—I am still imprinted and almost obsessed with finding him and giving him his hug—telling him that God loves him and so do I.
I can say that I’ve seen his reflection in many faces and heard his voice in other voices, but I am still searching for him and his image in every church and gathering. Even so, I know that there will be time in Heaven to make up for our failures here.
How Do We Come to Christ?
For many of us, those campfires were the place where we came to Christ—where are hearts said Yes, Lord, for me as well—and where we became self-aware of our devotion to God in Christ. These are significant turning points or starting points, but they’re not the whole game.
I’ve been asked may times: “When did you give your life to Christ?” My answer is: every time.
“But when were you converted?” My answer: “I’m still being converted.”
Human beings crave simplicity. Where we don’t see it, we invent it. What makes us think that the ongoing activities of the ineffable Lord of the Universe should be simple to understand? Why would we ever imagine that God’s plan could fit into three or four simple steps? As evangelicals, we are not inviting people to a simple, four-step program—not even and intensive 12-step program—but we are inviting them into a relationship that is eternal and quite complex. We run the risk of dishonoring the Lord by dumbing it down. Relationships are messy, and so is our faith-relationship with God. It can’t be simplified and ought not to be. It is a walk we spend our lives growing into.
ARE WE RECONCILED YET?
God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself.
The question is: “Is reconciliation a reality or a possibility?” In other words, when Jesus died on the cross for our sins, were those sins actually paid for, or just potentially paid for? Did God accomplish our reconciliation, or did he simply create the possibility for it?
Consider some of the texts:
John 15:16a:
You did not choose me but I chose you.
Colossians 1: 21-23:
And you who were once estranged and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his fleshly body through death, so as to present you holy and blameless and irreproachable before him—provided that you continue securely established and steadfast in the faith, without shifting from the hope promised by the gospel that you heard, which has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven.
Ephesians 1: 4-5:
just as he chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will
Romans 5:6:
For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.
and
2 Corinthians 5:14
For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died.
The Church is still divided over the answer, and we have to go back to a couple of theologians to parse it out: Jacob Arminius and John Calvin. At the risk of dangerously dumbing it all down, I’d say Arminius taught that Jesus died for all on the cross, but the sins are only forgiven if you choose to accept it. Calvin taught (Biblically) that God’s work on the cross accomplishes all things for the Elect—those whom he fore-chose to save.
The texts from Scripture offer support to both sides, which seems strange since they are contradictory. It may help to see them side-by-side:
To put it briefly, Arminianism is perfectly coherent; it makes perfect sense. But it is flawed. Nowhere does Scripture put our being saved into our own hands. “Accepting Christ” cannot be viewed as a good work which effects our salvation, or else salvation is in our own hands. We never find that in Scripture.
Similarly, Calvinism is perfectly coherent; it makes perfect sense, but it too is flawed. There are too many verses suggesting that God’s work in Christ is for everyone, all, the whole world. In 1 John 2:2 we hear:
he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world.
One of the things that makes Karl Barth particularly credible to me is that though his work fills an entire shelf, it remains enormously difficult to understand. What? That’s a good thing? Barth reminds us that the reconciliation of the world is bigger than we guess and clearly includes God’s love for the cosmos, all humanity, and his completed work through Christ. It is a hard truth to digest (and we are not universalists who claim that there is no possibility of Hell). And yet, we do live out our faith with confidence.
We observe and can trust:
- 1.Reconciliation is a reality.
- 2.Reconciliation is universal. It includes everyone.
- 3.Your response to this fact is very important.
Because we miss the first point, we misunderstand 2 and 3. Calvin and Arminius are both represented, but the truth is messier and more complex than either articulated.
For now, let us follow Christ in trust, knowing:
1. God’s reconciling love does not depend upon our response.
2. Faith is important because it is how we embrace who we are in Christ.
3. Obedience is the shape of our lives.
Caught Like Little Bunnies
A friend of mine had to catch a young rabbit that was loose in his yard. He has dogs that would gladly throttle it to death, so he wanted to capture it and put it somplace safe and secure. The problem is that the bunny did not want to be caught. My friend chased around the yard as it dashed from cover to cover, until he cornered it beneath the back patio. To get it he had to reach in and get hold, but again, the rabbit was having none of it. Using a towel, he somehow managed to grab the bunny and lift it out. It kicked its feet horribly and made noise like it was screaming for its life, but my friend was just trying to save it! It couldn’t understand its situation. It was fearful and did not know it was being saved. It certainly wanted to live and defend itself, but beyond that, it had no idea my friend was its savior and preserver.
So it is with us. Though we may think we’re doing God’s good work by allowing ourselves to be converted, we fool ourselves. We are just kicking against the towel one way or another. The work is done by Christ on our behalf despite our efforts either to comply with it or fight against it. We are reconciled by Christ: we are being rescued, being saved—note the passive voice—his work, his glory. †