Making Sense of It All
1 Corinthians 1:22-25
Faith makes no sense. That is the first, inescapable truth of faith. To believe is to set reason aside and to base one's existence on something for which there is no or very little material evidence.
Paul directly states the hurdle in following Christ--our Savior died and then he rose from the dead. As he goes on to say, no one in the world in their right mind can accept this creed, be they people of religion or of basic thinking.
Deep down we know Paul is absolutely dead on--the possum in the middle of the road is not going to suddenly leap to its crumpled feet and flee from the asphalt. Dead things are dead. They stay that way. Moreover, what good is a "savior" who cannot save himself? The crowd says it best, "How can he save others when he cannot save himself? If you are the Savior, then come down from that cross."
We have an old sofa bed in our living room. A while ago, it began to pop screws willy-nilly, seemingly intent on dropping anyone daft enough to actually sit on it straight to the floor. I put off fixing it because I knew what would happen. Finally, when one of the kids sank right through it, I flipped it over and decided to mend it. The bed frame is anchored to the sofa frame by six malevolent looking wood screws on each side. The left side was being held in place by nothing--all six screws had jumped ship. No wonder it collapsed. I found three. The other three, I assume, fled for Quebec. So I improvised. I broke one of the three remaining screws, bent the bed frame, and dropped to hammering nails into the sofa frame to hold the bed in place. We'll see. It's even money that someone's going to find themselves on the floor. It will probably be me. Then my "compassionate" family will cry out, "How can he save others, when he cannot save himself?"
No--reason mandates that repair work be done by those who can actually manage the repairs. It is no different with faith.
We come to faith and we wind up in one of three states--we seek release from our suffering--words of hope and comfort; or we seek to find an end to suffering--release from all that would break us existentially--not just comfort, but freedom; or we seek that liberation so we can help others to find their liberation, committing ourselves to a ministry of compassion. No state is better than the other, just different. But to get to any of these states, the promises of faith must be realized--i.e., real and actual in and of themselves.
Paul points out the problem with Christ--he died.
So what of the promises?
Realize that the next step--that of resurrection--is a work of God. A work of God, by definition, transcends all that is human--i.e., expectations, assumptions, even actual knowledge, and even materialism--the way things really work in an actual world. Because it is God who worked resurrection, it can be so.
It will also be completely beyond reason to explain it, prove it, or define it.
Which is actually a good thing.
Materialism is a perfect philosophy for life as it is because it accepts the limits, parameters, and possibilities of daily existence--ergo, if I drive 55 mph into a tree, I will get hurt; if I spend twice my paycheck in a week, I will be broke--rationality helps.
But it also throws a blanket on hope. It makes causes hopeless. It dooms people to be stuck where they are. It makes last chances the only reality.
Christ eradicates that. Christ breaks the bonds of all that would break us.
No, don't leap from a bridge and expect airy angels to lift you; but at the same time know that there is always hope. NCSU coach, Jimmy Valvano, famously expressed the hope of faith as he was dying of cancer, "Don't give up; don't ever give up."
No, don't--there's no reason to.
Faith makes no sense. That is the first, inescapable truth of faith. To believe is to set reason aside and to base one's existence on something for which there is no or very little material evidence.
Paul directly states the hurdle in following Christ--our Savior died and then he rose from the dead. As he goes on to say, no one in the world in their right mind can accept this creed, be they people of religion or of basic thinking.
Deep down we know Paul is absolutely dead on--the possum in the middle of the road is not going to suddenly leap to its crumpled feet and flee from the asphalt. Dead things are dead. They stay that way. Moreover, what good is a "savior" who cannot save himself? The crowd says it best, "How can he save others when he cannot save himself? If you are the Savior, then come down from that cross."
We have an old sofa bed in our living room. A while ago, it began to pop screws willy-nilly, seemingly intent on dropping anyone daft enough to actually sit on it straight to the floor. I put off fixing it because I knew what would happen. Finally, when one of the kids sank right through it, I flipped it over and decided to mend it. The bed frame is anchored to the sofa frame by six malevolent looking wood screws on each side. The left side was being held in place by nothing--all six screws had jumped ship. No wonder it collapsed. I found three. The other three, I assume, fled for Quebec. So I improvised. I broke one of the three remaining screws, bent the bed frame, and dropped to hammering nails into the sofa frame to hold the bed in place. We'll see. It's even money that someone's going to find themselves on the floor. It will probably be me. Then my "compassionate" family will cry out, "How can he save others, when he cannot save himself?"
No--reason mandates that repair work be done by those who can actually manage the repairs. It is no different with faith.
We come to faith and we wind up in one of three states--we seek release from our suffering--words of hope and comfort; or we seek to find an end to suffering--release from all that would break us existentially--not just comfort, but freedom; or we seek that liberation so we can help others to find their liberation, committing ourselves to a ministry of compassion. No state is better than the other, just different. But to get to any of these states, the promises of faith must be realized--i.e., real and actual in and of themselves.
Paul points out the problem with Christ--he died.
So what of the promises?
Realize that the next step--that of resurrection--is a work of God. A work of God, by definition, transcends all that is human--i.e., expectations, assumptions, even actual knowledge, and even materialism--the way things really work in an actual world. Because it is God who worked resurrection, it can be so.
It will also be completely beyond reason to explain it, prove it, or define it.
Which is actually a good thing.
Materialism is a perfect philosophy for life as it is because it accepts the limits, parameters, and possibilities of daily existence--ergo, if I drive 55 mph into a tree, I will get hurt; if I spend twice my paycheck in a week, I will be broke--rationality helps.
But it also throws a blanket on hope. It makes causes hopeless. It dooms people to be stuck where they are. It makes last chances the only reality.
Christ eradicates that. Christ breaks the bonds of all that would break us.
No, don't leap from a bridge and expect airy angels to lift you; but at the same time know that there is always hope. NCSU coach, Jimmy Valvano, famously expressed the hope of faith as he was dying of cancer, "Don't give up; don't ever give up."
No, don't--there's no reason to.
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