Becoming a “Christian” just to reach heaven? It seems like that’s often a reason people become “Christians” at first – but you can’t stop there. If you or someone you know came in because of the “eternal reward” so to speak, there’s something I think you need to realize. That’s not why you do it – that’s a benefit. Let’s put it this way. If you were about to get hit by a bus, and a man jumped in front of that bus so you could live the rest of your life, would you just say “thanks?” Or would you go live your life like you never had before? You’re life would then have new meaning – you’d start living passionately and intentionally because the man that sacrificed himself to save you can no longer live his. We’re in this same position. A man (who also happened to be God) loved us enough that he jumped in front of that proverbial bus. He died so we could experience REAL life. Do you just say “thanks?” No. You fall in love with that man. You live your life FOR that man. Once you recognize what He did for you, you’re life becomes full of passion and meaning. Because he was brave enough to give up His life so you could live yours. Because of this, you should want to live yours for Him. When we discover that, Heaven becomes the benefit. To understand Christianity, we must embrace the power of sacrifice.
*I was recently reminded of my feelings on this topic by reading an interview by Relevant Magazine with Cold War Kids frontman Nathan Willett. Here’s what he said that got me thinking:
“Faith is a struggle,” he muses. “That’s another part of the background we came from that we had a problem with. People thought of faith as arriving, instead of a journey. The idea that faith puts you in heaven and that life on earth just needs to be lived as best as you can is, again, really what we’re against.”
Read the article at Relevant Magazine.com http://www.relevantmagazine.com/culture/music/features/24768-the-faith-story-behind-cold-war-kids
And their new CD “Mine is Yours” is awesome by the way. And yes I did just plug a CD on my blog. Please don’t call me a sellout!
. . . musings from a pitiful masterpiece 