Sense

 The quickest way to frustrate me is to insist upon something that doesn’t make sense. If, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, then it goes to reason that the action must directly correlate to the response. If you’re carrying an umbrella, I’m assuming you’re assuming it’s going to rain at some point. If I go through the trouble of making conversation and asking if it’s going to rain and you answer that you have no idea, I’m likely to ask why you’re carrying an umbrella. If your answer is because of the aliens, I’m just going to assume you escaped from a mental institution.

If the children of God were in no danger of being deceived, led astray, or otherwise sidelined by the enemy, why are there so many warnings in the Bible about being vigilant, on guard, and aware of the devil’s machinations? If you were Superman, why would every New Testament author warn you against getting shot? You’re the man or woman of steel; after all, you’re bulletproof. You’re impervious to anything and everything, and you ought not to have a care in the world that the enemy roams as a roaring lion. Yet the One who knows the situation better than you ever hope to saw fit to warn you against growing indifferent, lackadaisical, or lukewarm.

Your vigilance and awareness are supposed to be active throughout your journey of faith, not passive or nonexistent. Make it make sense. Please explain it to me in such a way that I don’t have to succumb to cognitive dissonance to accept your theory.

Matthew 24:4-6, “And Jesus answered and said to them: “Take heed that no one deceives you. For many will come in My name, saying, ‘I am the Christ,’ and will deceive many. And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not troubled; for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.”

Jesus wasn’t speaking to strangers; He was speaking to friends. He was speaking to His disciples, the closest people on the planet to Him, and His first warning was to take heed that they not be deceived. Oddly enough, none of them asked Him what He was talking about. None of them rolled their eyes or attempted to correct Him saying, “You don’t get it, boss, we can’t be deceived, we got this game on lock, ain’t nothing gonna break our stride, ain’t nothin’ gonna slow us down.”

Would Christ not have worded His oration differently had He not allowed for the prospect of the effectiveness of deceivers? Why spook His disciples needlessly? Why warn them of something that posed no danger to them?

Jesus is warning His disciples, telling them that they’re not bulletproof. Being bulletproof is one thing, but dodging bullets is another. Jesus is nixing the former but confirming the latter.  He is telling them that they can dodge bullets. If you can’t be bulletproof, being able to dodge them is the next best thing. In order to dodge the devil’s shots, you have to see them coming, and in order to see them coming, you must be aware, on guard, and vigilant.

Perhaps this is why Jude felt compelled to write about contending for the faith once delivered. Maybe even in his day, there was a predisposition to coast, to do less than the bare minimum and feel accomplished because disreputable souls insisted that you were doing great, killing it, so far ahead of the pack that you couldn’t see anyone behind you.

Again, self-awareness and honesty must play a part because most people who are told they’re excelling have the sneaking suspicion that they’re not, because if excelling is showing up for two out of five church services, what of those martyred for the faith?

It’s because we like to have our egos stroked that we allow lies to fuel our pride and walk about as though we and not Christ are the cornerstone upon which everything rests. Anyone who tells us the truth is the enemy; anyone who insists upon walking humbly with the Lord is standing in the way of our priestly calling. We’re just a bunch of fools swallowing lies about ourselves because acknowledging the truth requires dramatic change, and who’s got that kind of time?

We’d rather believe flattering lies than challenging truths, and in our quest to maintain the status quo, we reward handsomely all who would betray the cross and tell us what we want to hear. Tell me my sin is of no consequence. Tell me my duplicity will be overlooked. Tell me that God will recognize me even though I don’t know Him when I stand before Him, and I’ll write you a check for that overflow building right now.

Why do you think celebrities and people with money and influence gravitate toward a handful of so-called pastors and churches? The guy who was supposed to be the shepherd to the stars turned out to be a serial adulterer. Do you think, knowing himself to be what he was, he ever confronted his parishioners about their infidelities?

We’ve gotten to the point that calling someone out on their sin because you don’t want to see them go to hell is offensive and unloving. Cheering someone into the flames of Sheol, however, is the height of love and compassion.

And yet, we still beat our chest, calling ourselves the greatest generation to have ever preached the gospel, assuming that all others who came before us must bow before our prowess and global reach. This is spiritual greatness we declare, cars, and clothes, and fancy things. Never mind healing the sick or casting out demons, or preaching Christ’s gospel; we got stuff, and it satisfies us. Make it make sense. I’m waiting.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.