Originally published Tuesday, 18 June 2013.
Yesterday I dropped my daughter off for summer camp. As I drove home I reminisced about my own childhood camp experiences and how I often returned with happy, glowing, spiritually-charged feelings about my relationship with Christ. I always thought I’d really experienced Jesus this time at camp and surely now my life would change for the better. But fast-forward a few weeks later and it looked about the same as it had the day my mom dropped me off.
My reality didn’t change in those early days because I wasn’t confronted with my sin, God’s judgment, Christ’s sacrifice, and the good news of salvation. What I fell in love with at camp was the idea that I could re-comitt to religious morality fueled by self-justification. I’d been confronted by man’s gospel. What I needed was not man’s gospel:
“Before I came to salvation I had pot-luck theology. I’d grabbed a little from this religion, a little from that one, making a cultural casserole of sorts. Eventually, I had a smorgasbord of side dish beliefs and Jesus Christ wasn’t even at the feast I called Christianity.
The religion I preached was one of man. I chose the parts I liked from different people who’d taught me their views and opinions. Not wanting to exclude anyone or make anyone feel uncomfortable (least of all myself), I attempted to clean up Jesus’s public persona. I had no grasp on the actual person of Jesus, the enormity of His sacrifice, or the wrath he’d saved me from.
I’m sure to my believing friends, I looked like a lunatic; preaching a Jesus-free moral religion of all-inclusiveness. The gospel I preached was man’s gospel; one where anyone can pick and chose what they like and trash the rest.” Click here to continue reading.
Join me today over at Karis, the women’s channel for The Biblical Council of Manhood and Womanhood where we’re in the middle of a study on Galatians. Today I’m handling the text from Galatians 1:11-24 and I’d be honored for you to stop by.
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