Comfortable Christianity

(an excerpt from my current read: Comfortable Christianity by Caleb Seifu)

Christian or not, we all make something of Jesus. He was capitalist of socialist, merciful or wrathful, humble or majestic, prophet of messiah. He has been used to control the masses, to save the masses, to judge the masses. Some think of Him as one of the ways to God; some think of Him when they need stuff from God.

As Christians, we've failed to accurately represent Christ's ideology. Instead, we've made Him represent our ideology. If we're living in sin, He's forgiving. If we're living for materials, He wants us to prosper. If we boast in our good deeds, He casts the first stone. We've made it so difficult for people to see Jesus's heart.

MAN IN THE MIRROR

Our misrepresentation of Christ has turned away millions, if not billions of people. My hope is that non-believers would be able to push aside Christians to see Christ. And I'll begin with the man in the mirror.

Perhaps by examining my own hypocrisy, I can encourage others to do the same: Not to merely accept ourselves as frauds, but to be transfigured into what Christ has called us to be — a light to the world.

As I consider how many people I've known, I wonder, how many of them have I led to Christ? How many have I led away? I like to think I've had neutral influence, but there's no such thing. If my friends, neighbors, and co-workers know that I'm a Christian, they will examine my life — even if I don't. 

Perhaps it would be better if they didn't know.

SKELETON IN THE CLOSET

Christian teens and young adults are often encouraged to witness to friends. But the thought can be daunting, especially since revealing that we're Christians may come as a shocking surprise.

Surely being a follower of Jesus isn't something that can fly under the radar. After all, we're 'not of this world,' remember? They should be able to distinguish us from the general population, just as we can spot a foreigner a kilometer away.

Kilometer, hah. I crack myself up.

Oftentimes, our language, behavior, and entire lives are no different from the people we seek to minister to. Despite this discrepancy, we may still manage to witness when we've mustered up the courage. Liquid courage!

People love being social, especially with the aid of substances. Many of us Christians seamlessly join them. And since being inebriated facilitates an open, no reservations zone, some of us have found ourselves opening up about our faith.

Just as tipsy people blabber meaningless nonsense, "I love you man, (barf)" our testimony is meaningless nonsense. A slurred testimony, a high testimony, or any testimony that allows us to make the disclaimer that, although we're not living right, we know the truth — it just hasn't set us free yet.

Our verbal testimonies are being nullified by our compromising lives. A non-believing friend of mine once laughingly told me about how his Christian girlfriend felt guilty about their sexual relationship. OUCH! Her ability to witness to him was dead.

"You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot." Matthew 5:13

When we live compromising lives, no one can tell that we have faith in Christ. In fact, if we tell them, we may be disfiguring the image of Christ. We may have become the salt that has lost its saltiness — void of the taste and the ability to create thirst.

Does this mean we shouldn't witness because our lives aren't holy enough? We're all a 'work in progress,' until of course, we stop making progress. Faith without works is dead, and sharing it is just exposing the skeleton in the closet.