Every once is a while, I get the grand idea that I’d like to go skydiving.
I’ll be watching T.V. or sitting with a bunch of friends or checking out YouTube videos, and something in me will scream out, “I should so do that!”
(Nevermind that I can barely climb a ladder without a certified spotter, or that I can’t get within three feet of a second floor balcony without sweat pooling in my palms).
Fortunately, it’s at these times I realize, that if I wait just a bit, the feeling will pass, and I can get back to the safety of the life on the ground.
Skydiving sounds really great as I’m talking about it, but the reality of actually jumping out of plane at 12,000 feet, is so flippin’ terrifying, that I invariably stay land-locked.
For me, there’s enough thrill simply in wanting to do it. I’m satisfied to only aspire to the air.
When it comes to following Jesus, most Christians approach things the same way.
We love to declare our intentions; to plan and talk and dream and imagine. We love to profess our dedication in emotional church services, to proclaim our obedience in intense small group discussions, to share sweet little Scripture photos on our profile pages, but when it comes to actually putting our rear ends where our mouths are, we chicken-out and opt for the security of simply talking about it.
And if there’s one thing Jesus doesn’t need, and His hurting world doesn’t need anymore, it’s the empty talk of Christians.
Today, I genuinely and thoroughly grieved, as I read the venomous, vitriolic posts of so many fellow Christians; not because they disagreed with me about a universal healthcare plan, or because their allegiance to a political party seemed to supersede their regard for all people, or because their assumptions about those who are less blessed than they are, continually veer toward contempt, rather than compassion. (Those were all deflating realizations, to be sure).
No, today I grieve, that so many Christians in our country, many that I know and love, (and even like), seem to suffer from profound memory loss.
Afflicted with a spiritual amnesia, they have long forgotten, that life-altering, destination-changing moment, when they realized the scandalous, confounding beauty of Grace, and what they were being freely given in that instant.
They no longer seem to remember, when they realized how completely bankrupt they really were; unable to do anything meaningful without Jesus, the moment when they accepted the most precious gift they could ever receive; one they could never earn or achieve or deserve.
Because in that moment, they came face-to-face with their own worthlessness, and yet their inherent pricelessness. And if they held on to that moment, it would be impossible for them to now respond in any other way, than to want to extend that lavishness to others.
If there’s something that should mark the people of God, it’s a relentless, almost involuntary gratitude, and a completely senseless spirit of generosity; one that forever strives to perpetuate even a fraction of the embarrassment of riches we have received from Jesus. If we really believe that we are as blessed as we say we are, if we truly understand that it all belongs to God, and if we do in fact, want to reflect the character of Christ to the world, then we need to be, as Christ commanded, “lovers of the least”.
At some point, our faith, if it is genuine, needs to usurp our politics and our preferences, to threaten our comfort and our position, so that we can seek the raising-up of others with less… period.
I don’t know where Christianity was hijacked so fully, to the point that it now makes total sense to us to be churchgoers, who want to say we’re Jesus followers, while in the same moment, resenting and rejecting the very people Jesus made so much of his life and ministry about. I can no longer resolve, disciples of Christ, who have a contempt for the poor and disadvantaged, instead of looking on them “like sheep without a shepherd”.
It seems to me like so many people in The Church want to have the benefits of Jesus’ love, without living in response to it. We like hoarding Grace.
No, this isn’t about wanting universal healthcare. It’s much, much bigger than that.
This is a challenge to myself, and to every person who has ever felt both the overwhelming poverty and the overpowering graciousness in the face of the love of God, to make a daily effort to remember it.
Christian, may you never forget, just how much you have been given, and are still being given, with each day, with this moment, with this breath.
And when faced with the difficult decision to do, or to simply talk the work of Jesus, may you choose a faith that refuses to remain on the ground.
Do more than just aspire to the air.
