Self

Self

They traded the glory of God who lives forever for the worship of idols made to look like earthly people, birds, animals, and snakes....They worshiped and served what had been created instead of the God who created these things. (Rom. 1:23-25)

"Once there were five sons who lived in a mountain castle with their father. The eldest was an obedient son, but his four younger brothers were rebellious. Their father had warned them of the river, but they had not listened. He had begged them to stay clear of the bank lest they be swept downstream, but the river’s lure was too strong.”

"Each day the four rebellious brothers ventured closer and closer until one son dared to reach in and feel the waters. “Hold my hand so I won’t fall in," he said, and his brothers did. But when he touched the water, the current yanked him and the other three into the rapids and rolled them down the river." (Excerpted from In The Grip of Grace by Max Lucado)

In this story, four brothers are swept down the river, away from their father's home and into a strange land where savages live. At first they tried to return to their dad’s house by walking and climbing. That proved to be an impossibility. So, in an effort to keep the memory of their dad alive until he could come after them, they met each night around a campfire and told stories to each other about home.

Finally, one of the brothers leaves the campfire meetings, builds a hut in the valley of the savages and decides to simply forget about his father. Soon, a second brother deserts the camp and takes up a vantage point near his brother’s hut to keep track of his brother’s misdeeds among the savages. In other words, he became his brother's judge. Seeing the other brothers gone, the third brother leaves the fire and goes back to the river to stack rocks in the river to build a pathway back home to his father through his own efforts. The remaining brother waits, alone, by the fire.

Finally, the oldest brother shows up, sent by the father, to bring them all home. But the hut-building brother refused to go with him, insisting he didn't even remember his dad. The judging brother said he couldn't go because he had to stay and record the misdeeds of his hut-building brother. And the rock stacker refused to go, insisting he had to make up for his sin by building his own road home. Only the youngest brother was willing to allow his older brother to take him home – and he did.

You know, when you think about this story just a little bit, all four brothers who’d been swept down the river had the very same problem – a distance too great for them to cover had separated them from their father. And all four brothers had heard the same invitation – each had an opportunity to be carried home by their older brother. Yet, each of their responses was different and, in three cases, tragic.

The first said “No,” choosing to forget about his dad and to make a life on his own. The second said “No,” preferring to keep track of his ne’er-do-well brother rather than admitting his own need to come home. The third said “No,” determined to earn his father's forgiveness by his own hard work. The fourth said “Yes,” choosing his father's grace instead.

Do any of these brothers describe you? Maybe not. But if so, have you, like the fourth brother, recognized your helplessness to make the journey home by yourself? Will you allow the older brother, Jesus, to carry you home to your Heavenly Father? Or, are you like one of the other three sons? (It could just as well be daughters, too)

For instance, do you relate to the hut-builder? He traded his passion for the mountain castle for a love of the lowlands. Rather than aching for home, he settled for a cheap hut. The aim of his life, apparently, was pleasure. That’s the definition of hedonism, and that was the practice of this particular son.

You see, the hedonist navigates his life as if there is no father in his past, or his present, or his future. Oh, there may have been, somewhere in the remote past, a once-upon-a-time father. But as far as the here and now? The son chooses to live without him. Now, granted, there may be, in the far-away future, a father who comes to claim him. But as for today? Nope. The son will forge his life on his own. In other words, rather than seizing the future, he's perfectly content to seize the day.

I kind of think that Paul had this person in mind when he said, "They traded the glory of God who lives forever for the worship of idols made to look like earthly people, birds, animals, and snakes .... They worshiped and served what had been created instead of the God who created these things." (Rom. 1:23-25)

In short, hedonists make poor swaps; they trade mansions for huts, and their brother for a stranger. They exchange their father's house for a hillside ghetto and then send the son away. In Paul's day that was the majority of the Gentile world, and it’s not too hard for us today to understand why they don't usually make it back home.

The approach of the second brother was simple: "Why deal with my mistakes when I can focus on the mistakes of others?" He’s a “judgmentalist.” I may be bad, but I’m not as bad as THAT guy! This guy fuels his goodness with the failures of others. He is the self-appointed teacher's pet in elementary school. He tattles on the sloppy work of others, oblivious to the “F” he got on his own work. He's the neighborhood watchdog, passing out citations for people to clean up their act while never once noticing the garbage piling up in his own front yard.

"Come on God, let me show you the evil deeds of my neighbor," the moralist invites. But God won't follow him into that valley. And Paul, once again, makes that clear: "If you think you can judge others, you are wrong. When you judge them, you are really judging yourself guilty, because you do the same things they do." (Rom. 2:1) It's a shallow ploy, and God’s not gonna fall for it.

And then there’s the brother in the river. Ahhh, now here’s a guy we can respect, right? Hard-working; industrious; zealous; intense. He’s the fellow who sees his sin and sets out to resolve it by himself. Surely his efforts are worthy of our applause. Surely he’s worthy of our emulation. And, most definitely, he’s worthy of the father's mercy. Won't the father throw open the castle doors when he sees how hard this guy has worked to get home? With no help from the father, the legalist is tackling the odds and fording the river of failure. Surely the father will be happy to see him – if he ever does.

You see, the problem with this guy is not the affection of the father, but the strength of the river. What sucked the son away from the father's house in the first place was no gentle stream, but a roaring torrent. So the question is whether the son is strong enough to build an up-river path to the father's house? Doubtful. We certainly can't since, "(t)here is no one who always does what is right, not even one." (Rom. 3:10) But we try, don’t we? But rather than stacking rocks in the river (because that would be silly), we do good deeds instead. We think: If I do this then God will accept me. If I teach this class...and we pick up a rock. If I go to church...and we put the rock in the stream. If I give this money...another rock. If I read my Bible, have the right opinion on the right doctrine, join this movement ... rock upon rock upon rock.

The problem with this approach? You may take five steps, but you have five zillion to go. The river is just too long, and the current is much too swift to overcome. What separates us from God is not some shallow stream, but a tumbling, cascading, overwhelming river of sin – think Niagara Fall. We stack and stack and stack, only to find that we can barely keep our footing, much less make any progress. We can be a bunch of rock heads sometimes.

The impact on the rock-stackers, of course, is remarkably predictable: either despair or arrogance. They either give up, or they become stuck-up. They think they'll never make it, or they think they’re the only ones who'll ever make it. Strange, how two people can look at the same bunch of rocks and one hangs his head and the other puffs out his chest. Call the condition a religious godlessness. It's the theme behind Paul's brazen pronouncement, "We're sinners, every one of us, in the same sinking boat with everyone else." (Rom. 3:19)

Now, don’t get me wrong. Works are a natural outgrowth of our relationship with Jesus Christ – like fruit from a healthy tree. But it’s not because of what I’ve done, but because of who God is. And it’s not because of who I am, but because of what He’s done. God rewards those who seek him, not those who seek a doctrine, or a system, or works to justify themselves. It’s Christ’s death that provided our justification, not our works. (Rom 5:9)

Quite a trio, don't you think? The first is on a barstool; the second is in the judge's chair; and the third is sitting in a church pew. Though they may appear to be different, they’re very much alike. All are separated from God, and not one of them is asking for help. The first indulges his passions, the second monitors his neighbor like a Gladys Kravitz, and the third measures his merits like a Boy Scout. "They never give God the time of day." (Rom. 3:18)

Paul's word for this is godlessness. (Rom. 1:18) And the word pretty much defines itself: a life minus God. Worse than a disdain for God, it’s a complete disregard for God. Disdain at least acknowledges God’s presence. Godlessness doesn't. And where disdain will lead people to act irreverently, disregard causes them to act as if God were irrelevant.

And how does God respond to godless living? Not well. "The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all godlessness and wickedness." (Rom. 1:18) Paul's main point is not a light one. God is justly angered over the actions of his children – whether they be godless or wicked.

Frankly, the first few chapters of Romans are not exactly what you’d call “upbeat.” Paul gives us the bad news before he gives us the good news. He will eventually tell us that we are all equal candidates for grace, but not before he proves that we are all desperately sinful. We have to see the mess we’re in before we can appreciate the God we have. It’s not a popular view these days, but before presenting the grace of God, we must understand and appreciate his wrath that will bring about our destruction without Jesus Christ.

So, which of these brothers best describes you? Maybe none of them. On the other hand, maybe you’ve recognized your helplessness to make the journey home by yourself. Or, are you like the other three who indulge their passions, scrutinize their neighbors or measure their merits? Self-satisfaction; Self-justification; self-sufficiency. Do you see a pattern here? Yep, they all have one word in common: self.

So, if you find you’re like one of these three musketeers, try God instead. He’s the savior, and he can save you in spite of your self.

Grace,

Randy