I’m not into risk. I take no chances with money, health, relationships or religion; doubly so when it comes to my eternal destiny.
When I was a kid planning to commit a “mortal” sin, I’d always check the confession schedules of local churches, so I could get there in a hurry. I timed my serious sinning to be on the same day as open confessions to prevent dying in my sleep the night before.
Fresh from a sin-fest, I’d make a beeline for church, meticulously avoiding stepping on sidewalk cracks or other similarly high-risk behaviors.
Finally, I’d find myself safely tucked-up in a tiny, dark halitosis-infused confessional hosted by my local dispenser of drive-through absolution.
“What a deal,” I thought, “do some sinning, get to confession, do a little penance and voila, good to go again!”
I can almost hear God exclaiming “Oy vey!” at such thinking. Imagine for a moment if one of your children treated you this way. They skirt the rules, do the minimum required to stay living in your house and getting free meals, then go their way, oblivious to your waiting up for them to make sure they’re home safely every night. They can live life on their terms with no real interest in a loving relationship with you at all.
Talk about missing the point. The Bible describes it this way:
“This is the crisis we’re in: God-light streamed into the world, but men and women everywhere ran for the darkness. They went for the darkness because they were not really interested in pleasing God.
“Everyone who makes a practice of doing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hates God-light and won’t come near it, fearing a painful exposure. But anyone working and living in truth and reality welcomes God-light so the work can be seen for the God-work it is.”1
There I was thinking that going to church, confessing my sins and receiving “absolution” would “do the trick” with God. But He has more in mind — a relationship. For me, some inconvenient truths needed to be cleared up between us.
I wanted my cake and to eat it, too. I thought I could just buy a little “fire insurance” that only required a weekly visit to church, a few prayers of penance and a wink from a priest. No messy personal stuff like a transparent, loving, honest relationship with God, no facing myself in the mirror, no seeking Him from my heart.
Truth is, I wasn’t interested in knowing God, just staying out of hell.
Back when I was young, I’d try to catch the priest at the end of his shift, when he’d be less likely to ask a lot of questions (like, “didn’t I hear you confess that one last week?”). Sometimes I’d change my voice to prevent being recognized. I’d always rattle off a bunch of lightweight misdemeanors in a mesmerizing cadence to warm him up. Then I would quietly drop in a whopper of a sin (known affectionately as “mortal”) without skipping a beat, and just keep going.
Sometimes it worked. Sometimes not.
We used to “priest shop” to find the guy who meted out minimal penances for each category of sin. I hit the jackpot with one priest, who we later dubbed, “in again, out again, Halligan.” He was fast and spared you the third degree.
Oh, the relief of knowing I was again safe from eternal flames — at least until my next scheduled sin bout. On the way home, I’d get back to defiantly stepping on cracks, playing chicken with cars and seeking out high-risk behaviors. What’s to lose?
Who was I kidding? God eventually woke me up by pointing me away from myself and toward the brow of a dusty hill where an innocent man was bleeding out on a cruel cross for me. While I was holding Him at arms-length, He was getting up close and personal with me, taking my sins (He had none of his own) into His own person and paying the eternal price for me.
Amid all the formalities of Good Friday, Passover and Easter, it’s easy to miss the underlying love story. This passage from Paul’s Epistle to the Romans reveals the dimensions of God’s love toward us:
“Christ arrives right on time to make this happen. He didn’t, and doesn’t, wait for us to get ready. He presented himself for this sacrificial death when we were far too weak and rebellious to do anything to get ourselves ready … But God put his love on the line for us by offering his Son in sacrificial death while we were of no use whatever to him.
“Now that we are set right with God by means of this sacrificial death, the consummate blood sacrifice, there is no longer a question of being at odds with God in any way.”2
God knew it would take more than a few trips to church and a little penance to wipe away my sins. It took the “sacrificial death, the consummate blood sacrifice” of His own sinless Son to put us out of reach of sin’s dreadful grip.
God didn’t wait around for us to “get it.” He proactively intervened while we were “yet sinners” and “ungodly.” He made our problem His problem, and it cost Him. Terribly.
How About You?
Do you realize that all the business of sin’s penalties was taken up, once and for all, 2,000 years ago by Someone else? You could never add- to, nor subtract from what He did on your behalf through the substitutionary sacrificial death of God the Son.
L.S. Chafer writes, “There is no spiritual progress to be made until one is convinced that something final was accomplished at the cross in regard to sin … Something has been done concerning every sin that ever has been committed, or that will yet be committed by man, and consequently, every person has been vitally affected by the cross.”
And that’s what’s good about Good Friday.
— D.C. Collier is a Bible teacher, discipleship mentor and writer focused on Christian apologetics. A mechanical engineer and Internet entrepreneur, he is the author of My Origin, My Destiny, a book focused on Christianity’s basic “value proposition.” Click here for more information. Click here for previous columns. The opinions expressed are his own.
1. John 3:18-21 (MSG)
2. Romans 5:6-11 The Message (MSG)