One act of righteousness

Romans 3:18 Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men.

It was only one piece of fruit.  One time.  “How bad could that be?” asks all of humanity.  Well, it was an act of rebellion that led to the condemnation of all men.  If I would deny God a central attribute of holiness, I would certainly insist on the primacy of my own ethics, rules and perspectives.  If God does not conform to my compromises and indulge my pleasurable tastes, however they progress and escalate, then I want nothing to do with that God.  For it is not only one piece of fruit.  It is an endless orgy of fruit, and one that I delight in discovering, uncovering and feasting on, my mouth dripping with juice.

Why does this condemn?  Isn’t fruit good?  If I entertain there is a Creator, wasn’t it then created for my enjoyment?  What kind of spoil-sport God would show me a tree and its fruit then deny its consumption?

The kind of God whose limits and boundaries are for my good, not my harm.  The kind of God who desires my trust through obedience.

It is a chief fault of mine if I fail to see the reason in this verse.  I made choices.  They were NOT good, no matter how I revel in them and point to other factors in making them.  And Holy God does not endorse rebellion or rebels like me.  I have separated myself deliberately, even exuberantly.  God finds me hiding behind a tree in the garden and I decide to miss out on the most pleasurable walk in the company of One so intimate and loving.  I leave behind the most precious time I have ever known and could ever know, in the cool of the day with God.  Oh, what I’ve traded for my indulgence!

It was only one man, perhaps erroneously killed by oppressive authorities who were jealous of his persuasion over the people.  That injustice was scarcely unique, and is not unique to this day.  Yet the dying man had said prior that his death was voluntary, that there is no greater love than someone who dies for his friends.  He called himself the Good Shepherd and his sheep were people.  He taught denial and lived it and died it.  His proposition was that in giving up his life he was purchasing mine.  And even in that, granting me the volition to say yes or no to him.

That “one act of righteousness” speaks through time.  Hallelujah!  God did not leave me this way.  Blood drips from the veins of the crucified One, not any man but the dying Messiah.  The pleasure fruit and its effects die with him, along with the shame that I bore and curse I swore.

My rebellion is justified, paid for and I am reconciled to take that walk through the garden in the cool of the day again.  My obedience doesn’t come at once, salvation is progressive and my depravity deep and pervasive.  Yet his cleansing deeper still.

My life is his; there is no one else.

Conflict gone ballistic

Acts 6:11 Then they secretly persuaded some men to say, “We have heard Stephen speak blasphemous words against Moses and against God.”

They had heard no such thing. Stephen simply had used the same scriptures they used to selectively enforce their oppressive reign over the people to show that Jesus was and is God the Son. And he was unbeaten in his debates; they simply had no answer for him.

So, out of that defeat and wounded pride came a set of false accusations that would eventually result in Stephen’s death. But first he would win one last debate – in front of the whole council of religious leaders.

The act of escalating a debate out of envy and malicious vengeance always produces overkill. But those who do it are pleased to gloat over their victory, however achieved. But it is of course no conflict resolution – it is only escalation to higher authorities who may or may not have the insight or even the compassion to judge or contend fairly and justly.

Do I handle conflict like this? Do I scheme, gather secret consensus and ally myself with those whose only agreement with me is resentment towards my foe? Certainly I can and must appeal to God my Father, both for encouragement and correction. But concerning correction – do I even entertain the possibility that I might be in the wrong? Am I refusing to learn, thinking I know it all? If so, I must remember the wisdom of humility, though it cost me some esteem for a time.

And when I am like Stephen, the winner of debate and the one who finishes atop my competitors, do I seek to reconcile with them, to re-establish peace and safety as much as is possible? We aren’t told about Stephen’s entreaties to his opponents; whether he approached them as friends after contending with them as ideological enemies. Whatever happened, there clearly was no reconciliation and matters only grew worse.

It’s not that peace is the ultimate goal. But it’s definitely one goal. Stephen was fighting, as any believer should, to proclaim the truth. Yet truth without mercy can be very cruel. Again, not being sure of what Stephen said or did, let me be sure to mend relationships when there has been the heat of debate or the bone of contention.

Being reconciled

Genesis 45:5 And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you.

Joseph was able to disguise is identity before his brothers through several meetings with them until this one. He had purposely tested them to see if the schism still existed in the family – between children of different mothers, one of whom was greatly preferred by their father over the other. When Judah, son of Leah, offered himself up in place of Benjamin, son of Rachel (like Joseph himself), Joseph was convinced that they had mended the schism, at least to the point of desiring their father to not further grieve. So Joseph revealed his identity and the brothers were, predictably, terrified. Then he said the words above.

The events of Joseph’s life were both devastating and exhilarating. But mostly, since he had seen his brothers again, devastating. They had betrayed flesh and blood and, if not for a band of traveling merchants, had committed fratricide. Joseph was well within his rights and powers to annihilate them. Instead, all who would ever hear or read this story would know the extraordinary person Joseph had become through his deep knowledge of God and His purposes. For his faith had sustained Joseph when nothing else could. The Lord was with him at each of the many low points and now, exalted to second in command over all Egypt, the Lord was still teaching his heart.

Can I see the good purpose that prevails despite all the evil done to me? Pettiness, rivalry, vengeance, envy and pride would beckon that I only see the offenses and eternally lick my wounds as they fester and refuse to scab over and heal. Can I see the sun shining? Or the smile that greets me? Can I take a better and newer inventory of my life and see redemption? It is there, let my soul know that well. But do I choose to see it? And celebrate it? And name it as the purpose of God fulfilled?

What do I have to complain about compared to Joseph? Please, there is nothing. And yet comparison is always unjust, so let me indeed revisit my pain not his. Not to wallow there, but just to see it dispassionately, historically. And though I may not know how it works, let me surrender to this – that each of those points of loss and betrayal, of abuse and hurt, of trauma and indignity and shame, all of them were necessary for me to become who I am today. At the very least, they allow me to say “I know how that feels” and at their most, they mold me deeply into someone who is compassionate and who listens and makes time to hear the voice of God as to my place in healing and mending the wounds of the people on this planet, because it was to save lives that God sent me – the way he sent me.