The Cross- Part 1

More than ten years ago, I was channel surfing late at night and came across a reality TV show where, for reasons I don’t recall, a young Christian man from some rural Bible Belt community was sent to live and work for a while among a group of young gay men in a trendy coastal neighborhood. It was supposed to unfold like an Odd Couple style pairing, I think, though the Christian and his new compatriots were mostly agreeable and found their lives had more commonalities than differences.

Of course, people who get along don’t make very riveting television. So at some point the group staged a dinner table talk over the Christian’s homespun values and his views on sin. He had tried, in a ham-handed way, to explain that his church viewed all sin the same way and that certain kinds of sex were no different than murder. He could as easily have said “no different than lying” or “no different than pounding your thumb with a hammer and shouting the Lord’s name in vain.” Once the group heard their sexual expression equated with murder, tempers flared and civil discourse mostly shut down. The next several minutes of the program were a mix of venting and cringe-worthy apologies. Around then I remembered I was a grown-up with better things to do, and shut off the TV for the night.

What remained with me, though, was a sense that our group values often align by which issues we face personally and which issues we don’t. It’s probably easy to get a large group of evangelicals all on the same page about robbery, violence, or a kind of sexuality no one in the parish deals with personally (or discusses publicly if they do). The sins of others, as it were. It might be tougher to get everyone in a congregation to unite against gluttony, online pornography, or prescription drug abuse – the struggles that tend to get more representation in our own church pews. And yet, as the reality TV star tried to explain, all sins hold a common value. Ultimately, they all separate us from God.

Even in New Testament times, we heard this week, it was easy for believers to lose sight of the enormous redemptive power of the cross. We can try to devalue or justify our own sin, but grace does something entirely different. Grace doesn’t diminish or erase our debt. Rather, it pays our debt in full. 

 “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us,” (Ephesians 1:7-8 NIV).  

In Ephesus, a city characterized by slave trade, redemption could carry the commercial connotation of being bought out of servitude. But understanding the value of redemption also requires having sober attention to what sins and struggles hold sway over us. We can’t practice forgiveness, be gracious ourselves, or learn to cope with the flaws of others if we don’t believe ourselves to be flawed.

The good news, though, is the reverse is also true. You will be amazed at how much transformative love and healing you can bring into the lives of others when you realize what Jesus’ own grace has done for you.

The magnitude of that realization will almost start poring out through your skin. Despite the times I have failed to witness to those around me, I have often found that people have known where I stood for years in my faith just by observing my general demeanor. I like to think that’s the power of walking through life feeling forgiven.

If you find yourself becoming cynical or lackadaisical in your approach to Christianity, I challenge you to be reminded of the grace that saved you. Although we did not deserve it and were all guilty of sin, Christ redeemed us and set us free.

Written by: Chad Halcom

Edited by: Tamara Sturdivant