People using the phrase, a real Christian, might as well be saying, I double-dog dare you. Rather than relying on the content of a cogent argument, they default to simplistic fighting words—a real Christian. Using the phrase, a real Christian, is a kind of mic drop designed to leave anyone holding an opposing view in stunned silence. End of discussion.
But the way most people use the words, a real Christian, is fundamentally flawed. In current vernacular, that phrase is almost always tied to behavior. Real Christians do or don’t do certain things. This reliance on behavior violates the very definition of Christian salvation. A Christian is not one who behaves himself or herself into salvation or proof of conversion. We’re saved “not by works of righteousness which we have done,” but by God’s mercy (Tit. 3:5).
Many of us, probably more than once, have begged God for a sign. Maybe we’ve even tried to bargain with God. We ready ourselves with a string of promises meant to rope God into action. We assume it’s a spiritual quid pro quo—God does His part, we do ours. So, we promise God a renewed commitment or assign Him the rights to our firstborn, if only He would show up in some indisputable way. If He rescues us from financial disaster, we’ll be more generous. If He helps us pass that test, we’ll tell everyone how good He is. If He ensures that we land the perfect job soon, we’ll promise to one day become a missionary to Borneo.
But God is always working even when it seems like He’s not. And He’s always speaking. He doesn’t have to be cajoled or pressured into communicating. He is there and He is not silent. And when asking if God speaks, we may also stumble onto an equally important question: are we listening?
Maybe God’s newness is always all around us waiting to be enjoyed. Not only does God create something new in us when we place our faith in Jesus, but He also opens up a whole new world before us. We’ve been ushered into a new existence! And God is with us to help us live in this new creation.
In Sunday school, we plastered Bible characters onto flannel boards and sang This Is My Father’s World accompanied by a half-tuned, hand-me-down piano. And our teachers suggested that being good enough to get into heaven comes mostly by trying exceptionally hard to behave yourself.
I wouldn’t expect elementary-aged kids to have the theological acumen to grasp biblical nuances. But from my vantage point of years past Sunday school, I now see glaring omissions of truths I should have heard even as a child. Simply put, some things got left out—some very important things.
