Dragonflies and Death

If you are in need of a good laugh let me recommend the Agnes Browne Trilogy by Brendan O'Carroll. It's been described as Angela's Ashes without the misery. The books are set in working class Dublin, beginning in the 1960's. Raw and earthy, with the kind of humor I remember so well from my own upbringing in the North of England, O'Carroll's tales are both evocative and skilfully wrought. The author weaves together such disparate themes as abuse and alcoholism, adolescent angst and adult alienation. Hidden within the humor lies one of the tenderest love stories you will read anywhere. The Irish seem to have a knack for moving seamlessly between pain and laughter, tragedy and comedy. If you can get beyond some of the foul language, the books are well worth reading.

Many things in the books delighted me; some made me laugh out loud; but several things surprised me. First, there is very little sectarianism in the story. One of the incidental characters is a Jewish businessman who has fallen upon hard times. His generosity is in sharp contrast to the callous violence of his son. But, in the narrative of the Browne clan, that son is just a villain, not a Jewish villain. I have no idea whether or not this is an accurate representation of working-class Dublin in the late twentieth century. Given the other prejudices that are given expression in the books, particularly the small-minded hatemongering of the skinheads, this comes as a surprise. O'Carroll makes his characters generally sympathetic to a family member who turns out to be homosexual (Agnes wonders when he is going to come out of the wardrobe...) but it is still a member of the family who almost kills him when he goes 'queer bashing.' There's a certain tension here. Sectarian violence is largely controlled in the Browne Trilogy, presumably for the sake of the story. The streets are, by and large, safe. In a society in which alcohol abuse is such a way of life, I'm not sure how authentic this really is.

Secondly, in the same way, there are no anti-British themes explored. The young men go to England to find work. One of them dies there, the victim of both the avarice of others and his own appetite for heroin. A mere fifty years after the Easter Uprising I would have expected more antipathy toward the old enemy. The 'Troubles' are only mentioned once, in passing. Yet this was the period during which the green of the South and the orange of the six counties of the North were both stained with blood.

Finally, there is no anti-clericalism either. One very serious nun is mocked. Her false teeth are knocked out with a convenient cucumber, which is no less than she deserves for her harsh treatment of the brood of children entrusted to her care. But a priest, working with the St. Vincent de Paul Society, is praised. Most of the major events of Agnes' life, and those of her children, are marked by the church. And yet the story contains scarcely any mention of the Christian faith. Whatever Catholicism remains hardly influences the Brownes. They lie, steal, cheat and fornicate without reference to a distinctly Christian moral code. They are hard-working and generous, and they are loyal to one another (although they also fight incessantly), but their virtues are not specifically Christian. As the story unfolds, we watch them adopting the values of a godless world. At first, for example, Agnes is wounded when Simon decides to co-habit and not to marry; later, she has no problems taking her over-sexed French lover to her bed. Perhaps the all-pervasive public religion of Agnes' youth has lost so much influence that, by the end of her life, the Roman Catholic Church is simply irrelevant and is therefore ignored.

An illustration of this is the attitude to death displayed by members of the Browne family. An assumption is made that beyond death there is a place of pure happiness, call it heaven if you will, that has no relation to morality, or to God. When Agnes suffers an aneurism and slips into a coma she has a vivid dream of her old friend Marion, dead for 25 years. In her dream, hanging between life and death, Marion tells her that in this secular heaven the bingo halls are open all day and she can drink as much cider as she likes. The only rule is that one cannot see from one realm to the next. Marion thinks that it is a stupid rule, and says so. Apparently one can also swear in heaven.

Earlier in the final book, The Granny, Dermot Browne explains death to his son, Cormac, by means of a parable. He tells the child that death is like a grub, rising through the water of a pond to become a dragonfly. All the grubs in the pond wonder what lies beyond the surface. Eventually, one brave grub volunteers to climb a blade of grass to see what is there, and then to come back to tell the rest of them. He climbs until he feels the sun upon his back and then, a wondrous thing happens, he turns into a magnificent dragonfly, decked out in yellow, green and blue. He cannot go back to tell the others so, instead, he flaps his four wings and flies away into the sunshine with a big smile on his face. "So you see, Cormac," says Dermot, "that's what 'died' is. Your mammy has become a dragonfly." (The Granny p.140)

It's a pretty story to tell a six year old, but it is also nonsense. Without the assurance of faith and the knowledge of the resurrection we have absolutely no reason to tell our children that there is a happy land, far, far away. And what exactly does it mean to say, as O'Carroll does on at least two occasions, that at death we become dragonflies? Don't dragonflies die too? Aren't thousands of them snapped up as soon as they emerge from the water, long before they can fly, smiling, into a welcoming sky?

Hope, without Christ, is empty. It is not much more than wishful thinking. It cannot comfort the dying, it cannot relieve the pain of those who are left behind. Sentiment can never be a substitute for a living faith.

I'm not sure I want to be a dragonfly when I die, but I do want to be with Christ. Wherever He is will be heaven indeed.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Agnes Browne Trilogy consists of The Mammy; The Chisellers; and, The Granny. All are published by Plume, a member of the Penguin Putnam Group.

Doubting Doubt

A few weeks ago I read A.N.Wilson's splendid little book London: A Short History. This is really an architectural history of the capital city; I highly recommend it. I thought, at the time, that the author was not as scathing about London's spiritual heritage as I had expected. In fact, in places I found a wistful longing for the age of faith.

I had expected a tirade. Perhaps, like Ingersoll, Wilson would have lamented the ignorance displayed by a forest of steeples; or, like Cowper there would have been some oblique reference to "dark, satanic mills," that is, the non-conformist chapels of the early Victorian age. Instead I found Wilson praising Wren's efforts to rebuild London's churches following the Great Fire of 1666, or lamenting their loss during the Blitz. And this surprised me. Surely, this was the same A.N.Wilson who poured scorn on the Christian faith in God's Funeral, or ridiculed anti-intellectualism in Jesus: A Life?

Indeed, it was. An apologist for a post-Christian worldview, Wilson had moved from Anglicanism to Roman Catholicism to scepticism. His views were widely read and very influential. So, why didn't he take any potshots at Christians in London?

The answer may be that A.N.Wilson was in the process of returning to the Christian faith. According to an interesting article in the New Statesman, Wilson has now turned 180 degrees, and has decided that Christ is risen. He atrributes this to "the confidence I have gained with age."

Good for him. It takes courage to admit that you have been wrong. It was courageous of him, in the first place, to renounce the faith in which he had been raised, and to concentrate upon his doubts. Too many people do this as an excuse for their behavior. In Bertrand Russell's autobiography he admits that one of the reasons he rejected the Christian faith, as a student, was that it was easier for him to get girls that way (and, presumably, to ditch the guilt). I've come across any number of people who have suddenly had doubts at exactly the time that they are tempted to abandon Christian morality. It's strange that they often speak so fervently of intellectual struggles, whereas in reality the struggle usually had more to do with another part of their anatomy. The sadness is, of course, that once renounced it's hard to return. Hard, but not impossible, as A.N.Wilson has now proven.

Often, those who really do doubt the central tenets of the Christian faith (as opposed to those who say that they do for ulterior motives), grow tired of living within a system that seems to be made up, entirely, of negations. There may be something exhilerating about saying, "I think Christ died on the cross, and his bones are buried somewhere in Palestine!" But with what is the resurrection faith to be replaced? Like those Victorian secularists who returned to the faith of their youth, A.N.Wilson has grown tired of nihilistic atheism. Now he says that those who doubt God are like "people who have no ear for music or who have never been in love."

I hope that Wilson will write a book about his return to faith, and that he will take the time and trouble to counter the arguments he used in some of his earlier works. Now it's time for the Holy Spirit to work on a few others - like Bart Ehrman and Richard Dawkins. Could it be that the tide is beginning to turn, and that Dover Beach will soon be covered once again?

See New Statesman article http://www.newstatesman.com/religion/2009/04/conversion-experience-atheism

Also, more popular article in Britain's Daily Mail http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1169145/Religion-hatred-Why-longer-cowed-secular-zealots.html

And, for those who need it: Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/arnold/writings/doverbeach.html

Angels in the Gloom

Anne Perry's book, bearing this title, is the third in her series following the Reavley family during the First World War. The main character is Captain Joseph Reavley, a chaplain who has received the Military Cross for bravery in rescuing the wounded at Ypres. He is sent home to recouperate, following an injury, and there becomes embroiled in scullduggery concerning a secret naval weapon that could turn the tide of war. Perry's presentation of the characters is largely sympathetic. It makes a pleasant change to come across a representation of a 'man of the cloth' which is not horribly caricatured. Unfortunately, she reverts to type in her description of Kerr, the village vicar, who is a sorry excuse for a clergyman - weak, bumbling, and totally ineffectual. It's easy to see, also, that Perry has a horror of warfare. She does not glorify bloodshed, as do so many others. Neither does she minimise the courage of the common soldier.

What suprises me about the story is the theological hinge concerning the existence of God. Kerr, who has never been anywhere near the Front, cracks under the strain of comforting those who have lost loved ones. He finds himself with nothing to say, beyond inappropriate platitudes about King, Country, and Glory. Reavely, on the other hand, goes as far to accept, on at least two occasions, that he is not sure about the existence of God. But then he goes on to state his rationale: It is not about us. When we bring comfort to the bereaved we are not to think about our doubts, but their needs.

In the end, though he may entertain reservations about whether or not God is there, or interested in the affairs of men, Reavley contends that he is absolutely sure of this: that the things for which Christ stood, like honor and truth and love, are true for all times.

I've never actually heard anyone expound this doctrine; perhaps it was more prevalent in an age which actually knew what Christ stood for. It sounds a little like the religionless Christianity that gained some adherents in the 1960's when, building on the works of Friedrich Neitzsche, Thomas Altizer and others wrote about "Christian Atheism." Altizer taught that it is no longer possible to believe in a transcendent god, but that the spirit of Christ is immanent wherever his people gather. In this way, we may continue to revere Christ, even without God.

(By the way, don't you just love the duct tape holding this guy's raincoat together?)

Here's the problem - and not just for Captain Reavley - Christ believed in God, indeed He understood Himself to be the only begotten Son of the Father. When the disciples came asking who He was He accepted Peter's belief, that He was the Christ, the son of the living God; neither did He rebuke Thomas who greeted his risen Savior as "My Lord and my God."

Maybe Anne Perry does not accept the divinity of Christ; apparently she is a Mormon. But even this does not solve the problem. Even if Christ was not "the image of the invisible God," that same God was still His primary point of reference. Jesus of Nazareth was who He was because of how He understood His relationship with His Heavenly Father. So, to take concepts like honor and truth and love, and to ascribe them to a godless Jesus, is do strip them of meaning. What does 'love' mean without the narrative of redemption? We can give the word any meaning we choose, but we cannot force our interpretation upon Jesus. And if we attempt to divorce elements of His teaching from His understanding of the nature of God, we do violence to the Gospel.

Is there a warning there for today's church? When our understanding of the Christian faith is more anthropological then theological, then it is fundamentally flawed.

My Way?

Apparently, things are not what they used to be in the funeral business in the UK. Increasing numbers of Britons are now choosing secular funerals, so the music being played is changing. Out are the standard hymns used for generations. In are selections deemed more appropriate, either by the dearly departed, or by those gathering at the wake. A survey of 30,000 funerals last year showed hymns on the decline, except in Scotland. In England and Wales it's a different story.

X Factor winner Alexandra Burke's cover of the Leonard Cohen classic 'Hallelujah' is proving popular, although many of us have never quite worked out what it's all about. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bsuXbkrA_AQ

Other favorites include Bette Midler's 'Wind Beneath My Wings,' Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman's 'Time to Say Goodbye,' and, most popular of all, Frank Sinatra's 'My Way.'

Secular humanity has also shuffled off to theme songs from soap operas. Even the music from the Shipping Forecast (giving weather related information) has been used. Somewhat more unusual choices include:

AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell,' Doctor and the Medics 'Spirit in the Sky,' and, of course, 'Another One Bites the Dust' by Queen.

It's interesting to note that the survey was commissioned by Co-operative Funeralcare which, at least in my experience, tends to cater for a more blue-collar or working-class clientele. There may, therefore, be sociological or demographic reasons for this trend, in that working class Britain has been distanced from the church for longer. Nevertheless, it's clear that thousands of people are dying without hope, or at least without hope fixed on the certainties of the Gospel. And that is not funny at all.

I used to worry, when I lived in Newcastle, that I was often asked to pronounce the assurance of salvation over people who had never darkened the door of any church and who, as far as I knew, had no relationship with God. I coped with this by adding a qualifier to the committal. I used to say, "Inasmuch as ....... trusted in Christ as Savior and Lord, we now commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ..."

Now, it seems, I would be saved the bother. I could tell a few entertaining stories about the deceased, express some vague hope about something or other, and then close the curtain to the crematorium while a reality star sings a godless hallelujah.

No wonder Paul says that, if Christ is not risen from the dead we are, of all men, most to be pitied. But that is not the case. Because He lives, we too will live.

Where is our urgency in conveying this hope to a generation that prefers the ersatz to the real, that would rather warble "My Way" than worship the One who is 'the Way, the Truth, and the Life"?

See the original story at http://itn.co.uk/news/8dd23696acf9823b701b27b829bec105.html

The Road

A man and his son travel a long-abandoned Road to an uncertain destination, in search of a salvation that is, at the same time, both remembered and the object of their desires, both past and future. They journey through a nightmare, apocalyptic landscape, the result of a blinding flash, and half-forgotten low concussions in the night.

Like Christian, in Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, the travelers find the road to be rife with danger. Death lurks around every corner, watches from a distance, stalks them like prey. In a time beyond mutual annihilation, where only a few survive, where society has collapsed into anarchy, and where the only sustenance is to be scavenged from the ruins of the past, the man and his son travel a Road that is absolutely without hope.

Cormac McCarthy's The Road is a simple story, at times lyrical, almost poetic in tone, but harsh and graphic in content. McCarthy, searching for foundational truth in a world that increasingly values style over substance, scours the earth and returns to the primal void. Civilization is gone, and with it the restraints that make us able to co-exist. It remains to be seen whether, in this stark vision, anything of value remains.

Never named, the man and his son descend by foot from the mountainous north country, fearing the approaching winter. They follow the remains of the Road, down through the barren countryside where nothing lives, where every memory is painful, and even the snow is ashen. Along the Road they encounter men-become-animals, cannibals who feed upon their own. Death, and the detritus of a civilization destroyed by nuclear war, accompanies their every step. Even the landscape is devoid of life. Nothing grows. The shore of the sullen, brooding sea is lined with the bones of a million fish. The earth is dead. Those who, somehow escaped the holocaust shall surely not survive. God is not in His heaven; all is not right with the world.


Towards the end of this grim tale a nameless woman embraces the boy. She talks to him of God. Yet when the boy tries to talk to God, he finds himself speaking to his father, now dead. The woman tells him that God cannot be dead because their breath is the breath of God. But on a Road without hope, where every painful breath spreads a mist of blood, can one really speak of God?

On the Road the man and his son, "each the others world entire," are sustained by love. That is a noble vision, but it is not enough. There is no grand narrative behind the tale. There is no destination towards which the Road leads. It leads nowhere. Time and truth have lost all meaning. Philosophy and theology, always uneasy bedfellows, lie together, abandoned in a ruined library. Nothing is of value that cannot be eaten. Man has descended to his most basic instincts - food, shelter, fire. Woman has taken her own life in despair. Survival trumps civilization. Godless and friendless, without a future worth striving to attain, the last human beings slouch, angry yet resigned, towards oblivion.

Meanwhile, in a much older story, Christian travels a road that has a destination, an End.

Christian knows where he began, and why he became a pilgrim, and he trusts that the path he takes will lead him home. At his destination, having endured trials and temptations along the way, and having escaped from perils that threatened to destroy him, Christian finds the peace for which he longed - the blessing of peace with God. For him, the pilgrimage of the Christian life is a journey with purpose, and every step is filled with hope.


Both stories assess the human condition. Both find value in sacrificial love. But one story ends with shattered lungs and a dirty blanket as a shroud; the other story finds meaning in an empty cross and a risen Savior. Christ, the goal of all our journeying, is the embodiment of our hope. In a world grown gray, devoid of meaning, He is The Road: the Way, the Truth, the Life.

A Song from "The Pilgrim's Progress"

"Confessed that they were strangers
and pilgrims on the earth."
~ Hebrews 11:13 ~

ho would true valour see,
Let him come hither;
One here will constant be,
Come wind, come weather.
There's no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent,
To be a pilgrim.


Whoso beset him round
With dismal stories
Do but themselves confound;
His strength the more is.
No lion can him fright,
He'll with a giant fight,
But he will have a right
To be a pilgrim.


Hobgoblin, nor foul fiend,
Can daunt his spirit:
He knows, he at the end
Shall life inherit.
Then fancies fly away,
He'll fear not what men say,
He'll labour night and day
To be a pilgrim.

John Bunyan

Transparency and Greed

I've been following a developing argument between the English Football Association, which oversees all aspects of the national game, and the Premier League, which administers the breakaway league of the top twenty clubs. Until about 20 years ago English football ('soccer' to the colonials) had four divisions with one governing body - the Football League. Then, the wealthiest clubs decided to form a league of their own, in which they would be able to negotiate television revenue separately from the lower leagues. There would still be relegation from the Premiership to the old second division (now called the 'Championship'), and successful lower teams could still win promotion to the higher eschelons.

In some respects the Premier League has been a run away success. It is now the most successful league in the world: its attendance figures have increased; its income has sky-rocketted; games are now shown around the world; players from every continent dream of playing for one of the top teams, earning more in a week than most people do in a year.

From my perspective, the Premier League has allowed the development of the team I have supported since I was a child. Growing up, I would go to watch Blackburn Rovers, along with five or six thousand other hardy souls.

The club had a storied past, having been founder members of the Football League in 1875. They had won many trophies, but not for years. The league title had not been theirs since before the First World War; the FA Cup had not been decked in Blackburn's blue and white since 1928. Then, Jack Walker, a retired businessman from Blackburn who had sold his metal company to British Steel for a bucketful of money, decided to invest in his hometown team. Almost overnight, quality players and coaches began to appear. The ground was updated. It was no longer possible, for example, to watch the rats playing underneath the stands (this had been a welcome diversion when the standard of football was dire). The team began to win. They won promotion to the inaugural season of the Premier League. Three years later they were champions. It was almost beyond belief. And if, since then, their fortunes have wavered a little, their accomplishments have still far out-stripped the wildest dreams of a North country boy, following his local team.

However, there is a downside to the Premier League. It has come to be dominated by four teams , leaving the other sixteen to battle for lesser honors. Money is now the driving force. Most teams are owned by foreign investors. Some of them are fabulously wealthy. Chelsea are owner by a Russian billionaire; two Americans own Liverpool; Manchester United is owned by the Glazer family, which also owns the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Manchester City was, until very recently, the property of the former Prime Minister of Thailand, Thaksin Shinawatra, until, facing corruption charges, he skipped bail in his native country and his assets were frozen. The club was on the brink of insolvency until a group of arabs from Dubai came in and began throwing money around like there was no tomorrow. Blackburn is one of the few clubs still owned by a family trust. Their indebtedness is tiny compared to the likes of Manchester United, which owes over $1,300 million. As a whole, the Premier League clubs owe about $6 billion. Some have borrowed against future television income in order to pay their huge wage bills.

Just this week, FA chairman Lord Triesman expressed his concerns about the situation. The current global economic climate poses "a terrible danger." "Transparency lies in an unmarked grave," said Lord Triesman, somewhat poetically. Apparently, three clubs have been contacted by their banks about the level of their debt. One team, West Ham United, is preparing to sell players. It is owned by an Icelandic businessman who is linked to the banks in that country which have recently failed. No wonder there is concern for the future. The most popular league in the most popular sport in the world is being run by outsiders who seem to be concerned about profit and not much else. Some have poured millions into their adopted teams; others are holding the purse-strings tightly, causing friction in boardrooms and a lack of confidence on the pitch.

FIFA president Sepp Blatter said, recently, that buying a football club has become as easy as buying a replica shirt. Teams have become investments for the fabulously rich. But when they lose interest, or when their losses become unmanageable, they simply walk away. "More and more clubs are in trouble," said Lord Triesman, "with a number of owners leaving abruptly." Famous teams are in danger of folding because of the greed of players, agents, clubs, and owners.

Without mentioning any names, Lord Triesman said that the Premier League's fit and proper persons test needed an urgent review. What he meant was that some of those who are buying clubs would be more suited to racketeering out of a back-street billiard hall. "If there is a prima facie case of someone's human rights record being regarded internationally as being very serious, it's reasonable to question whether that person should be running a football club," he said. "Nobody has real confidence in what they cannot see."

Apart from mixing metaphors (how can one see what is supposed to be transparent?) Triesman has a point. Greed and corruption at the highest level are in danger of destroying "the beautiful game." If the financial crisis worsens, as well it might, it is difficult to see how some of the clubs can survive, at least in their current form." Talks of a salary cap are too little, too late.

Lessons from a Christian perspective? I suppose there are two. First, there is a reason why greed is regarded as one of the deadliest of sins. It destroys. Football players are not worth $200 million; neither should they be paid $200,000 per week (admittedly, these numbers apply only to the very best). When stadiums are populated by blue-collar workers who are lucky to to earning the equivalent of $60,000 per year, the amount of money being paid to prima-donnas kicking footballs is obscene. And those who have bought their way into the business are often no better. Seeking to capitalize on the worldwide marketability of a team like Manchester United, while running up mind-boggling debt is sheer lunacy. It will end in tears.

I have to say also, though, that Lord Triesman is profoundly wrong in one respect. It is not true that "nobody has real confidence in what they cannot see." Frankly, I have a lot more confidence in a God who keeps His promises, than in slippery characters who say one thing and mean another. After all, isn't faith "being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1)?

As the current financial crisis deepens we need to make sure that our confidence is in things that will last forever - like the promises of our covenant God.

What Christians Believe Part V

4. Blessings Given

Paul wrote: “And those (God) predestined, He also called; those He called, He also justified; those He justified, He also glorified.” (Romans 8:30)

Becoming a Christian changes you in many ways. Some of them are visible, but many are not. It’s important that you should understand these changes. When God saved you from the fate your rebellion deserved, offering the perfect sacrifice of Christ on your behalf, He also prepared blessings for you. He didn’t need to do so. God doesn’t owe you anything; but the same love that rescued you also showers you with blessings. God’s power, now released in your life in the form of the Holy Spirit, grants you these gifts:

You are born again. Before, you were dead in sin. Now, you are new born. Your past is forgiven. You have a clean slate. You get the chance to live a totally new life in the service of God’s Kingdom.

You have the gift of faith. In the past, you wondered why others had faith and you did not. Wonder no more. By God’s gracious act, you now have the ability to trust Jesus for your salvation.

You have the gift of repentance. God’s Spirit, at work in you, enables you to both see how serious sin is, and to realize your need to repent. Before, your sins didn’t bother you. Now they sear your renewed conscience. You have come alive spiritually.

You have a much deeper love for God. Now that you can see how far you had fallen, and how low He had to stoop to rescue you, you have a much greater appreciation of what God has done. Fear is replaced by love. Your relationship with God becomes much closer. You begin to understand the depths to which love will go.

Along with these inner changes, God also blesses you with changes in your outer state. Specifically, you have been changed in the way in which you relate to God.

You are justified. Your relationship with God is restored. You are acquitted, declared ‘not guilty.’ Christ’s perfect obedience, in life and in death, is reckoned as yours. Your sins have been atoned for through your Savior’s sacrifice. You are free. You are as God always intended you to be.

You are reconciled. The barrier that once separated you from God has been removed. Before, you were God’s enemy; now, you are His friend.

You are adopted. Once, like Adam, you lived in disobedience. You did not know God as your father. If you knew Him at all it was as a tyrant. So, you wandered far from Him, lonely, angry, and afraid. Now, you have come home, and God has welcomed you with open arms. You are no longer a child of darkness, you are numbered among the children of God.

Finally, you are blessed with a sure and certain hope, in these ways:

You have the hope of heaven. When your earthly body dies you will finally know the perfect holiness of those who rejoice in God in heaven.

You have the hope of resurrection. You are an heir of the promise that, when Christ returns, as He has said that He will, and God’s plan reaches its conclusion, your body and soul will be reunited.

You have the hope of eternity. When you face your Maker on judgment day you will be able to point to Christ as the source of your salvation. You will escape the fate of those who reject Him. You will enjoy the reward of an eternity of praise.

As you grow in the Christian life, you will learn that there is more to knowing Jesus Christ than I have explained in these, few lines. You will never tire of learning more about Him, and you will never regret the day you accepted the Savior as your own.

What Christians Believe Part IV

3. Receiving Redemption

Paul wrote: “Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ.” (Romans 10:17)

It is wonderful news that Christ died for our sins, and that He has won our salvation. There is no better news in the world. But you also have to receive it. When you hear God’s call upon your life, your responsibility is to answer in faith.

Now, faith is not something that you can work up, like enthusiasm; and it’s certainly not something for which you can claim any credit, as though you did well to have it. Faith is simply trusting that what God says is true. To receive God’s gracious gift you must turn from your former ways, renounce evil, and decide to change – this is called repentance. Secondly, you must turn to Christ in faith, opening your empty hands, trusting that He is able to fill them. Really, this is nothing at all. It is simply the acknowledgement of God’s act in Christ. Nevertheless, it is important that you should respond to what God has done.

Why not do that now? Find a quiet place. Thank God, in these words or your own:

Lord God, I know that I am a sinner, that I have rebelled against Your will for my life, and I am sorry. I know that I can do nothing to repay the debt I owe. But I know that, by sending Christ to pay the penalty for my sin, You have opened up a way by which our relationship may be restored. On the basis, then, of His sacrifice, and claiming Christ as my Savior and Lord, I now vow to live as Your child, serving You alone. To You be the praise and the glory forever. Amen.

Not because of your prayer, but because of Christ’s death for your sins, you belong to God through the Covenant of Grace. You are a Christian. Well done! But this is only the beginning. You have spent so many years living in rebellion. Now you must learn to live in obedience to His will. By the way, it’s a foregone conclusion that you will fail, now and then. On these occasions you may be tempted to despair. Please don’t. Before, you sinned as an enemy of God; now, you do so as His child. That doesn’t mean that you should go looking for failure. You should not presume upon His mercy, thinking that, since your salvation is assured, you may wallow in sin. On the contrary, love for God should move you, increasingly, to live in ways that honor Him. As the years go by, your character and behavior should change. God has begun a new thing in you. By grace, you are a new creation.

And, you are not alone. God has provided four main means of grace that will help you to grow as a Christian. They are: the Bible, the Sacraments, the Church Community, and Prayer. Let’s look at them.

The Bible is the means by which God has chosen to reveal His nature and His plan. It was written by human hands, but we believe that the writers were inspired, and that in all matters pertaining to faith and life it is without error. It is a reliable witness to God’s acts in history, and to His will for us today. As a follower of Christ you will need to get to know the Bible. Read it faithfully. But get help. A simple daily devotional will lead you through its treasures. A good study group will help you with any questions you may have. Find a translation that you can understand. Read it regularly. Take it to Church with you. It will become a close and trusted friend.

The Sacraments are another means of grace. Through them, God gives you a visual confirmation of the Gospel. Reformed Christians have two sacraments.
Baptism symbolizes our death to the world of sin, and our rising to the community of salvation. By baptism, we say that we belong. If you have never been baptized than you should ask to receive this sacrament. It does not save you. Baptism is only a symbol of the saving act of God in Christ. Nevertheless, it is an important symbol. By it you declare your allegiance to Christ.
The Lord’s Supper, the second sacrament, reminds us of the sacrifice of the Cross. Through it, we participate in the act of remembering and are strengthened to live as Christians. There is no magic involved in either sacrament. Yet, as we take the symbolic meal and taste the bread and wine, Christ is present in our midst by His Spirit.

The third means of grace is the community of the Church. We may read the Bible alone, but we read it more profitably when we read it together. We may worship alone, but we benefit more when we worship together. With all its problems, the Church is still the main way by which God provides us with relationships that enable us to protect, encourage, and serve one another. It’s not just a matter of what you get out of study or worship, it’s also a matter of how much you give. We all have responsibilities within the body of Christ, the Church. When we ignore those responsibilities the rest of the body suffers. God can strengthen us, and others, through the community of the Gospel, which is the Church.

Fourth, Prayer is a means of grace. By it, God has provided a means by which we may speak with Him. Prayer is not really about techniques or formulas, it is simply conversation with God. Whether in worship with others, or in a quiet place alone, prayer explores the character of God revealed in the Scriptures, and it provides help and strength when we need it most.

Through these means, by faith, you receive the benefits of salvation. Through them, your relationship with God is renewed, then deepened. You cannot afford to ignore any of them, if you are to grow up in Christ.