I was a pastor in New Jersey when the General Assembly gave our Presbytery a couple of pretty controversial amendments to consider. There were two main issues. The first was the elimination of the “fidelity and chastity” language from our ordination standards. The second one was the lordship of Jesus Christ.
Some of our leaders seemed to have trouble affirming that Jesus is the "way, the truth and the life," and that there is "no other way to the Father but through him." Well, the reason for this, we were told by one clergy commissioner who sat on that committee, was that they were hurt and offended by the implication that they needed to affirm that central truth of our faith. “We made those vows when we were ordained, and we affirm it every day,” she said. The problem is, of course, that we’ve discovered over the last few years that people don’t all mean the same thing when they take those vows... A lot of people, it seems, even clergy, means that Jesus is their personal savior, but that other people might have a different one. But that’s another sermon.
Another pastor rose and told a story of how she had come to change her mind about the ordination of homosexuals by having come to know and love as a friend a lesbian woman who was at seminary with her.
Then someone else got up and said, “What are we doing wasting our time arguing about sex? Can’t we just love one another?”
Another pastor rose and raised a point of Biblical interpretation, wondering if we were still supposed to follow the law in Leviticus that condemns the practice of homosexuality and mandates death for offenders. “Which part of this passage is the word of God?” he said. “Both, or neither, or only half? How can we decide?”
One of my favorite colleagues, a solid evangelical with a well-deserved reputation for plain speaking, rose to respond with a two-minute explanation of the basic principles of interpretation, namely, that the gospels interpret the Old Testament, and that the Epistles - the letters - interpret the Gospels. Most of us learn this during the first year of seminary. He ended by saying that what was wrong with our denomination was ignorance of Scripture.
At this point someone else got up and expressed hurt feelings.
Well, it was a very unproductive and frustrating meeting. I spent the next few nights lying awake rehearsing the things I wished I had said, but couldn’t have even if I’d wanted to because I put in my two cents worth early in the meeting, and the only people who got to speak more than once were the ones whose feelings had been hurt.
And so after a few days of this mental churning, I wrote a two-page letter which I initially planned to send to the Presbytery newsletter. I named names, summarized their arguments, such as they were, and blew them out of the water with clear logic, sound reasoning, and pertinent Biblical quotations. As much as I hate conflict, I was ready for battle. I didn’t care how mad people got.
And then I went and asked for advice. I got it.
What I was doing was not loving, To be perfectly frank, it was not Christian. Remember what Peter said in his first letter? I had just quoted it in another sermon. “Now who will harm you if you are eager to do what is good? But even if you do suffer for doing what is right, you are blessed. Do not fear what they fear, and do not be intimidated, but in your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord. Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence. Keep your conscience clear, so that, when you are maligned, those who abuse you for your good conduct in Christ may be put to shame. [1 Pet 3:13-16] That’s what Peter said. Was I being gentle and reverent? No.
I also said, in that same sermon, “loving people - even difficult people, people who have wronged us and aren’t even sorry - people who may continue to do wrong - loving them keeps us from being poisoned by the conflict.” Well, the truth is, I was letting myself be poisoned by the conflict. And so I had to bite my lip, eat humble pie, tear up the letter, and go home and ask forgiveness. It hurt. I hate being wrong.
At least I kept it among friends... and I don’t think I made any new enemies. I hope.
What’s the point of all this?
It’s that being a Christian isn’t easy.
It would have been natural for me to express my frustration, to point out the flaws in other peoples’ reasoning and perspective. It’s natural to want to win, and especially when the issues are important, it’s natural to drag out the biggest guns you have to make sure you will win.
But it isn’t natural to be a Christian. It’s supernatural. That’s why Jesus said, ““For man it is impossible, but for God all things are possible.” [Mt 19:26]
That’s why it’s so important that each one of us understand that being nice isn’t enough to get you into heaven.
A lot of people feel pretty confident about their chances of going to heaven. Most nowadays rely on the fact that they are - in human terms - pretty good people. The belief that goodness is the main requirement for heaven is at the root of universalism - the idea that there are many paths to heaven, but that all religions basically lead to the same place. Since we’ve all met really good people who follow other religions - or no religion at all - if you believe that goodness is the key then of course it doesn’t matter whose name you call upon when you pray.
What people don’t understand is that it isn’t goodness that’s required to get into heaven, but perfection.
Remember the story of the rich young man who came to Jesus to ask how he could be sure of eternal life? Here is a man who wanted to have an eternal home with God. He thinks that good people earn their way into heaven, and he wants to make sure he’s got all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed. He’s knows he’s been a pretty decent fellow, but he’s not 100% sure that he hasn’t missed something. “What good deed must I do?” he asked Jesus told him to keep all the commandments; the young man said he had done so. And then Jesus said, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” [Mt 19:21]
To understand Jesus’ answer, you have to understand that he was trying to get across that being good isn’t enough. It’s not goodness that’’s required for heaven, but perfection. You see, if you are going to make it to heaven by being good, you have to be perfectly good. And even though this young man had done a good job of following the commandments, the statement of Jesus showed him exactly where he had fallen short. What Jesus showed him was that he loved money more than he loved God. And that is a violation of the First Commandment.
It’s good to be good - far better than being immoral - but it’s not good enough for heaven. And as the book of Ecclesiastes tells us, "Surely there is no one on earth so righteous as to do good without ever sinning." [Ec 7:20] The only one who could do that was Jesus, and that is why we have to ride on his coattails.
Other people believe that following their religious practices carefully will get them into heaven. Again, universalists believe that sincerity is enough - that God will take devotion offered to the god you know as equivalent to devotion to him. And that’s a very tempting and attractive idea. If you look, you can find a lot of intriguing similarities between the different religions.
There’s an interesting thing about the word “religion” - it comes from two Latin words that mean “to bind back”. That’s one of the ways in which religions are all alike. Religions are human efforts to bind ourselves back to God. We devise religions because we realize, at some point in our self-awareness, that there is a gap, a gulf between our human selves and what we are able to grasp of the eternal divine. All religions are alike in that they require you to do something to restore a right relationship with God. Christianity does have hoops to jump through: baptism, church membership, keeping the commandments, saying prayers, etc. Other religions, such as Hinduism and Islam, teach that salvation is obtained through obedience, devotion, sacrifices, etc. Well, obedience, devotion and sacrifice are things Christianity approves of, too.
But the heart of Biblical Christianity is not a system to get us back in touch with God. It is the news of what God has done to bring us back to him. It is God’s acts that we are concerned with, not ours. And so we have to take our minds and our eyes off of ourselves and onto Jesus, who is speaking to us on God’s behalf. Listen to his words again: “Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy, that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few.” People say, “but it’s not fair that those who have never heard the gospel can’t get into heaven!” Well, maybe if you or I were making up the rules we’d do it differently, but we don’t have that option.
The gate is just as wide as Jesus. It’s not wide enough for Buddha, and Socrates, and Gandhi, and the Dalai Lama, and Mohammed, and Krishna, and the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. It’s only as wide as Jesus.
Jesus was inclusive. Don’t get me wrong. He invited everyone. He stands at the gate, like Wisdom in Proverbs, “On the heights beside the way, in the paths she takes her stand; beside the gates in front of the town, at the entrance of the portals she cries aloud: “To you, O men, I call, and my cry is to the sons of men.” [Pr 8:2-4]
But there’s another, louder voice competing for our attention, and it seems to have a lot to offer. You can’t miss it! There’s a large notice board on the wide gate saying “No restrictions here! Come right in and do as you please! The only sin is intolerance! We accept all credit cards!” I once saw a yacht named “Anything Goes!”, and thought, how symbolic of the way of the world. There’s no limitation on how much carry-on baggage you can bring; nothing needs be left behind - not even our sins.
And so the narrow gate is not quite as attractive. Because you have to leave your luggage at the door. You have to leave behind a lot of stuff - pride, self-reliance, old wounds, hurt feelings, self-righteousness... what are the sins you cherish? What are the little self-indulgences you let yourself get away with, because “it’s only natural” or “I deserve it”?
And besides, the road is hard. Dust and rocks and ruts instead of plush wall-to wall carpeting, and the bare feet and unaccustomed knees of the penitent may take quite a beating before you get through the gate and stand up and stretch.
And there’s the difference.
The wide gate, that seems to offer so much, leads to nowhere at all. Imagine planning for a once-in-a life-time vacation, paying through the nose for first class, looking forward to stretching out your legs and getting free drinks and gourmet meals - but you never leave the gate. That’s all there is. Even first class in a jumbo jet will start to feel like hell after a few hours, won’t it.
Once again, Proverbs puts it very clearly: "There is a way that seems right to a person, but its end is the way to death." [ Pr 14:12]
The narrow gate, on the other hand, leads to abundance, to freedom, to joy unspeakable and life everlasting. It’s worth the scraped knees and the bruised ego. If there is anything that you are hanging onto, get rid of it. Just leave it at the door. Bow your head, get rid of your junk, and come on in.
“That’s easier said than done,” I hear you say. True. A lot of people have told me that they keep trying to let go of stuff and let God deal with it, but somehow they find themselves still hanging on to whatever it is. It’s almost as if our favorite sins are alive, parasitic, like ticks that have burrowed under the skin. Well, that’s why we need God’s help to get through the gate. That’s why we have to ask for help every day. But that’s the kind of help God wants to give, and is waiting to give.
