A friend of mine
messaged me a week or two ago with a link, and a comment that the article was
another reason why he liked being a member of his particular religion. I won’t
mention the friend’s name, nor the group he belongs to, as the purpose of this
blog post is not to come across as slamming what he believes or his group. I
mention his part in this because his message started me thinking about what I
liked about being a Christian.
As I considered
this, I realized something else. I hear a lot of songs, and see a lot of
comments, regarding what is great about being a Christian, but rarely do I see
anyone mention what we don’t like about being a Christian. Frankly, there are
quite a few things I don’t like about being a Christian.
First, being a
Christian means accepting the concept that God is sovereign. When the Law was
handed down, it was not put to a vote. God didn’t propose the various statutes,
and ask for our approval on each one. He didn’t leave it up to us to decide
what was okay and what was not okay. He gave us only one choice in the matter –
to accept that He knew what He was talking about, and to exercise the wisdom of
obeying Him, or to reject His wisdom and trust our own inclinations instead,
and endure the consequences of our foolishness.
I don’t like
that I am responsible for how I live His Word, while I don’t have the calling
to enforce it on someone else. It’s certainly much easier to tell others how
they should live, instead of demonstrating each and every day how I am supposed
to live.
I don’t like
that God expects things of me. There’s a popular mantra that “God loves me just
the way I am.” That’s true, but it doesn’t end there. Just as parents love
their children just the way they are from the moment the child enters the
world, so also God loves us just the way we are when we finally realize that
love. But just like the parents expect their children to grow up, God also
expects me to grow up. It’s one thing to have a child in diapers, needing to be
fed, changed, and taken complete care of when they’re an infant, but what would
we think if our children thought, “Mom and Dad love me just the way I am, so I’m
going to stay this way forever”? Would my parents have been happy changing
diapers on me when I was sixteen? Twenty five? God loves me when I’m immature
and know very little about living the Christian life the way I should, but He
doesn’t want me to stay that way.
I don’t like
that Christianity isn’t all about me. I want a God that caters to my whims and
desires – a Heavenly Father that dotes over me and spoils me, but that isn’t
what I have. Jesus said, “If any man comes after Me, let him deny himself, take
up his cross, and follow Me.” Instead of indulging myself, I’m supposed to deny
myself. Worse yet, I’m supposed to take up my cross. Let me make this clear. I’m
not being pressed by the Roman guard to carry Jesus’ cross up the hill. I’m
carrying MY cross up the hill, and there was only one reason to do that. The
condemned were expected to carry their own cross to the place of their own
execution. Jesus is telling me that I’m supposed to follow Him to my own death.
It should go
without saying that I really don’t like that part. Instead of a God that
blesses me with long life and an abundance of good stuff, I have a God that
expects me to willingly give up my life for what I believe.
As if that wasn’t
enough assurance that this life isn’t going to be smooth sailing, Jesus also
said, “In this world you WILL have tribulation.” He didn’t say I MIGHT have it,
He said I WILL have it. I don’t see a lot of Christians joyfully claiming that
promise, and I don’t blame them. I don’t like it, and I don’t want it. I don’t
want tribulations and troubles. I want those wonderful, happy times that
Christians sing about so often.
I don’t like
that I have to love other people, even if I don’t find them particularly
lovable or nice to be around. I don’t like that Jesus commanded me to forgive
them when they do something that hurts or offends me. I’d rather have a front
row seat to that “vengeance is Mine” part, and gloat when God strikes them for
what they did to me.
I don’t like
that there seem to be a lot of other Christians determined to make us all look
bad, and that I get lumped with them.
Most of all, I
don’t like the fact that being a Christian isn’t something I chose because it
suited me. I wasn’t sold on all the benefits and advantages it presented. I am
a Christian because I came to the inescapable conclusion that I needed Messiah
in my life. I am a Christian because I realized that, without Him, my life was
nothing but a long series of days ending in a lonesome grave. I am a Christian
because God is Holy, and I am not, and without the sacrifice on the cross,
there would be no way I could enter into the presence of Holy God. My sin and
His holiness cannot coexist. I am a Christian not because I like it, but
because there was awareness that I was created to have fellowship with God, and
there would always be a missing piece in my life without it. What I could not
do on my own, God provided the means to accomplish.
I am a Christian
because, when God called, I stopped to listen, and nothing was ever the same
again. I heard that it had nothing to do with what I liked, because, when it’s
boiled down to its essence, it’s all about Him. It wasn’t about what I liked,
it was all about who He loved, and He loved me enough to send His Son to die
for me.
That, my
friends, is the only reason that mattered.
