The Gospel rubs me the wrong way
The teachings of Christ are infuriating. He admits no wrath. Or revenge. He demands a life without judgment. All my worst tendencies are chastened and crushed by His teachings. 1 Corinthians 13 and Philippians 2 and Romans 12 and Matthew 5-7 are painful in their implementation because they rub us the wrong way. We don’t want to be patient and kind. We don’t want to consider others more important than ourselves. It is unfathomable to the human mind that the path to exaltation passes through humility.
But then again, maybe Christianity is just souped-up humanism. Is it Jesus himself that gives the Gospel its vibrancy? His shunning of power? His embracing of the outcast? Could the Evangel exist without the Evangelist? Could the big-G Gospel stand without the messy foundation of the Old Testament? In practical terms can Christian piety thrive without the cross? The meaning of our holy book is elusive. Our religious institutions are inept and corrupt. Avid pursuit of theological truth ends in insanity or inquisition. Yet I believe. I sing Amazing Grace and Jesus Loves Me with the same gusto and conviction that I had forty years ago. Is that only my own positivity and optimism? Are we as humans so conditioned that no amount of suffering and despair can extinguish our hope?
I can’t escape this faith that holds me pinned to the old rugged cross. I sometimes long for a secularism and rationalism and materialism that might free me from the ridiculous mumbo-jumbo of my religion. This Gospel rubs me the wrong way but in so doing it is pushing me the right way. When despite my tendencies I forgive or release my claim to wrath or humble myself I am ushered into holy places. My heart with pleasure fills and dances with countless angels on the head of a pin. When saintly old ladies and small children are my teachers I feel the omnipotence of powerlessness and joy, The Great Messiah possesses my weak and trembling frame and transforms me and transports me into an unseen kingdom.