Into the Desert With Christ
Today we celebrate Ash Wednesday. As G.K. Chesterton would say, Ash Wednesday is the one feast day in the entire liturgical year that every sane man willingly celebrates, for it marks the one reality of Christian doctrine that is irrefutable in everyday existence: the sinfulness of mankind.
Nevertheless, sin isn't a subject we postmoderns like to dwell on very much. We like to explain our culpability away with psychological and sociological excuses, leaving, if any, only the faintest trace of blood on our own hands. We like to dwell on the 'positives', not the 'negatives' of our faith. After all, we wouldn't want to be judgmental--especially of ourselves.
I have recently be rereading some of the works of Chesterton in a class led by professor Thomas Loome, the founder of Loome Theological Booksellers in Stillwater, MN. In going through Chesterton's great work Orthodoxy and discussing it with parishioners from St. Michael and St. Mary and the good professor, I've been blown away by the weight that Chesterton attributes to the doctrine of sin, and specifically original sin.
I'll share a short anecdote from our class. One of the students questioned Professor Loome about Chesterton's dismissal of the modernist notion of 'progress', since Chesterton laughs it away, noting that we are indeed become, if anything more sinful, not less.
"Surely," the man asked, "there are wonderful advances being made in fields of medicine and technology and in countless other areas, no?"
"In light of eternity, I believe Chesterton would answer--and I with him--those advances mean very little indeed."
The professor then shared a story about a similar line of questioning he received from some nuns in the late 60's or early 70's. He had just provided a spiritual conference on something or other for the convent and a few of the nuns took exception to his words.
"Why do you have to dwell on the negatives so much," they queried.
"I suppose it's because if there were no sin in the world to fight against--no sin in me or in you--then we'd have no need for that [pointing to the Crucifix]! If we're so perfectible than why did Christ die on the cross?"
As we journey into the desert with our Lord over these 40 days. We remember that Christ died for a reason, namely, to save us from the death of sin. We can squabble about the methods of sanctification and justification that Christ opened for us--though I'd prefer not too--but the crux of the matter is the Cross. We are lost in fallenness without Christ, but in His perfect and limitless love the Father chose to send His Son that we might have life and have it to the full.
We've all heard that Lent is 'a time to draw close to Christ'. But what does that mean? How are we supposed to share with him the desolation of the desert when we're sitting in our comfy homes and riding in our comfy cars and shopping at our convenient grocery stores? To answer simply, we are called in this time of penance to humbly examine our lives for the ways that we have not yet surrendered to Christ's healing mercy.
The great baptist preacher John Piper uses an analogy that I think is quite helpful. Without Christ we are like renegade privateers sailing about looking for treasure to hoard in the deepest, strongest holds of our ships. The process of conversion includes willingly surrendering every last nook and cranny of our ship to our new captain, Jesus Christ. Sometimes, through our blindness we forget that there is still that secret chamber filled with Aztec gold or Incan silver.
In the season of Lent the Church offers us a time to scour the boat, looking for every last article of booty that we can turn over to our beloved captain. Because, even if we've been sailing under Christ's flag for many years, we'll find that we are always still holding out in some way--even if on the face of it it may seem trivial.
Like any analogy, there are always gaps in the application that need some clarification.
Conversion isn't a process of losing freedom as we replace the tyranny of sin with the yoke of some new tyranny. Quite the opposite, conversion is a process of liberation. If we are coming to Christ for the right reason, we will find that the narrow path, is indeed the path of freedom. My next post is going to discuss conversion and freedom so I won't say anymore on it now.
I encourage you to open your hearts to Christ anew. For we have fallen and turned from God, every one of us--and like the father of the prodigal son, our heavenly Father is eager for our return. He stands half way down the road throughout the day gazing in our direction, awaiting our return, eager to forgive our transgressions.
May the grace of conversion be yours this Lent!
Nevertheless, sin isn't a subject we postmoderns like to dwell on very much. We like to explain our culpability away with psychological and sociological excuses, leaving, if any, only the faintest trace of blood on our own hands. We like to dwell on the 'positives', not the 'negatives' of our faith. After all, we wouldn't want to be judgmental--especially of ourselves.
I have recently be rereading some of the works of Chesterton in a class led by professor Thomas Loome, the founder of Loome Theological Booksellers in Stillwater, MN. In going through Chesterton's great work Orthodoxy and discussing it with parishioners from St. Michael and St. Mary and the good professor, I've been blown away by the weight that Chesterton attributes to the doctrine of sin, and specifically original sin.
I'll share a short anecdote from our class. One of the students questioned Professor Loome about Chesterton's dismissal of the modernist notion of 'progress', since Chesterton laughs it away, noting that we are indeed become, if anything more sinful, not less.
"Surely," the man asked, "there are wonderful advances being made in fields of medicine and technology and in countless other areas, no?"
"In light of eternity, I believe Chesterton would answer--and I with him--those advances mean very little indeed."
The professor then shared a story about a similar line of questioning he received from some nuns in the late 60's or early 70's. He had just provided a spiritual conference on something or other for the convent and a few of the nuns took exception to his words.
"Why do you have to dwell on the negatives so much," they queried.
"I suppose it's because if there were no sin in the world to fight against--no sin in me or in you--then we'd have no need for that [pointing to the Crucifix]! If we're so perfectible than why did Christ die on the cross?"
As we journey into the desert with our Lord over these 40 days. We remember that Christ died for a reason, namely, to save us from the death of sin. We can squabble about the methods of sanctification and justification that Christ opened for us--though I'd prefer not too--but the crux of the matter is the Cross. We are lost in fallenness without Christ, but in His perfect and limitless love the Father chose to send His Son that we might have life and have it to the full.
We've all heard that Lent is 'a time to draw close to Christ'. But what does that mean? How are we supposed to share with him the desolation of the desert when we're sitting in our comfy homes and riding in our comfy cars and shopping at our convenient grocery stores? To answer simply, we are called in this time of penance to humbly examine our lives for the ways that we have not yet surrendered to Christ's healing mercy.
The great baptist preacher John Piper uses an analogy that I think is quite helpful. Without Christ we are like renegade privateers sailing about looking for treasure to hoard in the deepest, strongest holds of our ships. The process of conversion includes willingly surrendering every last nook and cranny of our ship to our new captain, Jesus Christ. Sometimes, through our blindness we forget that there is still that secret chamber filled with Aztec gold or Incan silver.
In the season of Lent the Church offers us a time to scour the boat, looking for every last article of booty that we can turn over to our beloved captain. Because, even if we've been sailing under Christ's flag for many years, we'll find that we are always still holding out in some way--even if on the face of it it may seem trivial.
Like any analogy, there are always gaps in the application that need some clarification.
Conversion isn't a process of losing freedom as we replace the tyranny of sin with the yoke of some new tyranny. Quite the opposite, conversion is a process of liberation. If we are coming to Christ for the right reason, we will find that the narrow path, is indeed the path of freedom. My next post is going to discuss conversion and freedom so I won't say anymore on it now.
I encourage you to open your hearts to Christ anew. For we have fallen and turned from God, every one of us--and like the father of the prodigal son, our heavenly Father is eager for our return. He stands half way down the road throughout the day gazing in our direction, awaiting our return, eager to forgive our transgressions.
May the grace of conversion be yours this Lent!
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