More Than a Fire Escape

“It’s the future coming to meet us in the present.” That’s the gospel, according to N.T. Wright in the last chapter of Surprised by Hope. Sounds a bit sci-fi-ish, yes?

And not at all what most of us think of as the gospel. Let’s be honest: for many of us, Christianity is primarily about where we go after we die. Getting into heaven . . . as opposed to suffering an eternity in hell.

But in this challenging but rewarding tome, Wright tells me that Christianity (that is, the gospel, the Good News) is not just about the someday. It’s about things being different right now. It’s about us being different right now. That’s what the gospel promises us.

Do we really believe that?

But maybe here’s the more important question: do we really want that?

I dare say a lot of us don’t. Yeah, we’d love for God to fix all the problems around us, so we don't have to suffer from the sins other people commit. But boy, we love our own sins. We embrace our selfishness. Not so sure we really want any changes there. Of course, we could be better humans, but that involves work . . . and righteous living just doesn’t sound like any fun anyway. We’re not THAT bad, you know. As long as there aren’t any serious consequences to the path we’re on (like, say, that aforementioned eternity in hell), we’re good.

Hearing that inner dialogue out loud makes it sounds pretty awful, doesn’t it? But I worry that more of us are in this camp than we realize.

I’m re-reading another brilliant book right now: Addiction & Grace, by Gerald May. (It's summer, y'all -- lots of reading.) He talks about how not all addictions are equal and not all seem destructive. We can be addicted – or attached – to things that are actually good in and of themselves. Family, relationships, self-improvement, being helpful. Even church. Even images of God.

What could be wrong with an addiction to a good thing? I mean, if I feed a hungry person because I’m addicted to "being a good person", they get fed. Who’s going to complain about that? Not the hungry person, I suppose . . .

A Jewish friend in Jersey once loaned me a book her son was reading in preparation for his bar mitzvah, and it had a story I will always remember. A needy man comes into an office building after hours and pours out his desperate story to the two people left in the building. One woman listens compassionately, and even weeps with him, but sends him on his way empty-handed. The other man in the office coldly ignores the man’s story . . . but on the way out the door, he hands the guy a huge check to cover all of his needs.

The question in the book was, which person obeyed the Law? And the answer was, the man who gave the check. We are to do good. Period. Motivation doesn’t matter.

I hated that answer. Because motivation DOES matter. Jesus commanded us to love. And to do good things because we’re compelled to do them – whether by the law or by our addictions and attachments – is not love.

And motivation matters in our relationship with God, too. Love God is the first part of the Greatest Commandment. “Getting saved” merely to save ourselves from hell is not the idea. Getting back into a relationship with God is the idea. Our obedience and good works are an outcome of that relationship -- they are not the goal in themselves. If we don’t want God in our lives today, we’re certainly not going to want him in our lives for eternity in the eternal new world. 

I want to be careful not to sound judgey or elitist or anything like that. If you came into the Christianity camp primarily as an eternal fire escape . . . well, welcome. We're glad you're here! But please don't be satisfied sitting in that spot. That's not all you signed up for. What you really signed up for is being a part of "the future coming to meet us in the present.”

And that's even better than you can imagine.