CHRISTIANITY 101: WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BELIEVE?
Warner Sallman was a 20th century painter from Chicago. In 1994, the New York Times called him the best-known artist of the century. It is his rendition of Jesus Christ standing at a wooden door by a garden – knocking – with which many of us are familiar. It is important to note that in Sallman’s picture, the door upon which Christ knocks has no knob or handle on the outside. It can only be opened from the inside. Yet there Christ stands...knocking. The question is: How do we open the door to let the Christ inside? How do we make ourselves receptive to Jesus Christ? Keep that thought in mind as we move on.
Many years ago, in my church in Luverne, Minnesota, we had a Baptist custodian by the name of Terry. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not picking on the Baptists – it’s just that that’s what Terry happened to be. Terry actually had a bachelor’s degree in psychology. We used to joke that the secretary could say, “Well, the pastor’s not in right now, but our custodian will see you!”
Terry and I used to debate endlessly as to whether the Baptists or the Presbyterians were right. Theologically speaking, it was a clash between Anabaptist and Reformed beliefs…but I’m not going to get into all that right now. In any case, it was frustrating for me because Terry never listened to a word I said. But in fairness to Terry, I never listened to a word he said either. Perhaps no one here today is less surprised to hear me say that…than is my wife!
Then one day, an FBI agent came to see me in my office. As you might suspect, I was a little unnerved to have an FBI agent come to see me, but it turns out he was looking for Terry. It seems Terry had bought a pickup truck in Sioux Falls, South Dakota with 70,000 miles on it. Two years later, he sold that pickup. The man who bought it happened to be from Sioux Falls, and when he went to register that truck in South Dakota, mysteriously...it only had 60,000 miles on it. In the course of two years, Terry’s truck had somehow lost 10,000 miles! That’s why the FBI became involved. It seems some unscrupulous automobile dealers in South Dakota were habitually rolling back the miles on cars, and the FBI wanted to know if Terry was involved.
Now Terry only got a slap on the wrist, but after that happened, oh…I knew I had him. I called him into my office. I said, “Terry, did you roll back the miles on that truck?” He said, “Hey, sometimes odometers run backwards!” I said, “They do not!” Then I said, “Now Terry, you’re a born again Christian, right?” He said, “Yes.” I said, “Then Terry, how could you roll back the miles on that truck? That’s stealing!” To which Terry replied – I kid you not – “Well, the person who bought that truck…might not have been a Christian!”
Does that fact that someone we deal with might not be a Christian make it okay for us to cheat them? I don’t think it does. You see, to be a Christian means that we live the life of faith we claim to profess. To not be honest in our dealings with others – to not have integrity in our daily lives – is to make our actions incongruent with our beliefs…and to render our beliefs hypocrisy. And when that occurs, perhaps we can still see Jesus knocking at the door of our hearts, pleading with us to be invited inside. So how do we open the door to let the Christ inside?
Consider the passage we read from the gospel according to John. Jesus was addressing a man named Nicodemus. Nicodemus was a Pharisee who had come to him with a question by cover of darkness. He was concerned as to how one might inherit eternal life. Among other things, Jesus said to him, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life.”
That statement answered the question that was burning in the heart of Nicodemus. Jesus showed him the way to eternal life. The Greek words translated “eternal life” are aionion zoane, which literally mean, “life without end.” What that means is that immediately upon the cessation of life in this earthy realm, we are ushered into life in the heavenly realm. Through faith in Jesus Christ, we have life without end. But we do need to be careful with our Greek here. Switch the “a” and the “n” in the Greek word zoane and you get the word “girdle.” We do not want to insinuate that faith in Jesus Christ leads to a girdle without end. Pardon the digression; I just thought that was really funny.
In any case, I believe the aforementioned statement answers the question we asked a moment ago, as well. How do we open the door to let the Christ inside? How do we make ourselves receptive to Jesus Christ? The answer is: We need to believe in him. So the question thus becomes, “What does it mean to believe?” What does it really mean to say, “I believe in Jesus Christ?”
The Greek word translated “believe” in John’s gospel is pisteuo. My Greek lexicon translates that word this way. Belief is: “Faith in the Divinity that lays special emphasis upon trust in his power and his nearness to help, in addition to being convinced that he exists and that his revelations are true.” So in other words, to believe in Jesus Christ is to give more than mere mental assent to his existence. It has also to do with trusting in his power and his nearness to help.
I think of the old story about a church that was preparing to send one of its own off to seminary. The young man’s name was John, and he was a very bright and very talented individual. Everyone in the congregation was absolutely convinced that he’d make an excellent minister. Near the end of a commissioning service they held for him, the minister asked if there was anyone who would like to come forward and offer a word of prayer. An elderly woman stood up and with great effort, she made her way to the front of the church. Then she began to pray. She said, “Lord, John is a very bright and talented young man. He has the brains to learn all about you. He has the gifts to preach all about you. But Lord, he lacks one thing. Lord…move his faith about one foot down!”
There is a difference between mental assent to God, and trusting in his power and his nearness to help. There is a difference between knowing about God and knowing God. There is a difference between faith of the head and faith of the heart. Theologians call this distinction “primary theology” and “secondary theology.” Secondary theology is that which lies in our heads. It has to do with biblical knowledge or theological competence. Primary theology is that which lies in our hearts. It has to do with genuine and sincere trust in God. It has to do with living the life of faith we claim to profess. Both are important, and true faith cannot really exist without the two.
You know all about secondary theology. The Presbyterian Church is great at teaching a theology of the head. We have enlightening worship services that open our minds to who God is. We have outstanding adult education that helps us to discern the will of God. We have tremendous Sunday school programs, youth groups and confirmation classes for children that could profoundly impact our community...if only we could reach the people who need them most. We’re very good at secondary theology. The instruction of the Presbyterian Church in a faith of the head is second to none.
What we’re not quite as good at is teaching primary theology. That’s because I’m not entirely sure that primary theology can be taught. A faith of the heart is not something that is learned. A faith of the heart is something that is experienced. In other words, one’s faith moves from one’s head to one’s heart when one experiences the grace of God for one’s self…and discovers that the promises of God are true. While I may not be able to enable that to happen for you, perhaps I can explain how it happened for me.
In the spring of 1997, my wife was diagnosed with Sartoli-Leydig cell cancer, a rare form of ovarian cancer. It was a particularly deadly kind of cancer. Every woman over the age of 40 who had been diagnosed with it up to that point in time...had died. My wife was 35 at the time. Our oldest son, Rob, was eight, our daughter, Mariah, was five…and baby Travis was but three. I was faced with the prospect of raising three kids by myself. She was faced with the prospect of not seeing them grow up at all.
The chemotherapy protocol was harsh. She had to endure seven-and-a-half to eight hours of inpatient infusion a day for a week. Then she was out of the hospital for two weeks, then back in the hospital for another week. It went on all summer long.
My mother-in-law came to live with us for three months. Now, a woman in my last church taught me that mothers-in-law do not appreciate mother-in-law jokes, so that’s all I’m going to say about that. Let’s just say that her coming to live with us was not my idea. But truth be told, we never could have made it without her. The cooking, the cleaning, the shopping, the laundry... I don’t envy anyone who has to go it alone.
Now at the time, I was just becoming involved with what we call contemplative prayer. Contemplative prayer is another way of saying listening prayer. In other words, instead of besieging God with an endless list of requests, we actually take the time to listen for God. Contemplative prayer thus involves a measure of silence.
So I was at my desk – listening for God – and thinking about my wife’s situation. Suddenly, I sensed four distinct words. I did not hear voices – I am not crazy – but I sensed four distinct words, just the same. Those four words were, “She will be fine.” Immediately, I asked God in my mind, “Does that mean she’s going to live?” And again I sensed four distinct words: “She will be fine.” And suddenly, I knew – that whether she lived or whether she died – she would be fine. And if she would be fine, then maybe the kids and I would be fine, too.
That is by far the most profound spiritual experience I have ever had. God came to me when I needed him most. My faith moved from my head to my heart when I came to realize for myself that the promises of God are true. Ladies and gentlemen, that’s what it means to experience the grace of God for one’s self. And that’s how one moves from secondary theology to primary theology. When we experience the grace of God for ourselves, our faith can’t help but move from our heads to our hearts.
A few weeks ago, we talked about a concept that a Jesuit priest named Gerard Manley Hopkins called “inscape.” Looking at art, he noted how the artist helps us to see what we have always seen, but never really seen. The artist helps us to hear what we have always heard, but never really heard. The artist helps us to feel what we have always touched, but never really been touched by. That, my friends, is inscape.
From a faith perspective, inscape is to see everything in relation to God – to see all the shadows and colors and tones working together – to bring God’s great purposes to pass. Develop your own sense of inscape, and you, too, might find yourself experiencing the grace of God. And you may find the door of your heart upon which Christ knocks...opening up, as well. As someone once said, “Seeing isn’t believing. Believing…is seeing.” Amen.
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