Redemptive Reflections
page 2
Religion
It is the shortened life span of earthly redemption that leads most to their need for ultimate, or spiritual, redemption.
I just watched the movie Aeon Flux because, except for renting Kill Bill, the new film genre of fashion model as psychotic assassin had all but passed me by. Here is the Aeon Flux plot. People are cloned after they die, so they never really die: death is a commercial break between reruns. But the movie has a happy ending: a cure is found, the practice of perpetual cloning is brought to an end, and people can once again return to the “hope” of death, not having to contend with the wearisome aspects of continued existence.
I sometimes volunteer at the hospital near my house. I’m not sure what philosophy student wrote the screenplay for Aeon Flux, but I assure you that the prospect of nonexistence is not a comforting thought to those on their deathbed. It is only comforting in the abstract,
Questions about faith? Bring your doubts
Why would I need faith?: Find some answers
But where does one go for spiritual redemption? Usually to one of the major religions, unless you’re really wealthy, like Cher or Madonna; then you can create your own.
What one finds in religion, though, is not redemption but the possibility or path to redemption. Certain activities are required, and if you choose an Eastern version, certain lifetimes are required. But that which we seek—acceptance before God—is elusive. Have we done enough? What is the criterion or cut-off point —1,234 good deeds? What if we’re one short? Will a pilgrimage be required? Have we earned it? Have we arrived? The result is that religion infuses us with guilt —there must be some commandment we’re in the process of breaking—and our guilt is assuaged only by judging others, for if someone is morally beneath us, we must be closer to the top, closer to redemption.
It’s like we are on one side of a canyon and God is on the other, and we are constantly building bridges to get to the other side, only to find that whatever bridge we have chosen—philosophy, religion, social justice—cannot possibly span the distance.
Grace
Then into the universe enters grace: true redemption and not simply the promise of it. In Jesus Christ, God does for us what we could never do for ourselves—dying for our sins and applying to us his perfect life—and that is as close to a definition for grace as we’re ever likely to find. Our part of redemption is making a decision to humble ourselves and accept God’s hand out of the mire, to place faith in Jesus Christ, to consent to be redeemed.
I’m not sure there is any one way to do that. If you’re Catholic or Episcopalian, I think it’s supposed to happen at Confirmation. But most people aren’t all that concerned with redemption at age thirteen.
As in a marriage, there’s any number of ways to say your vows. I eloped, so I wouldn’t really know. I simply said “I do” to a justice of the peace, and that was it. I believe that’s about all I said to God.
As a freshman in college, lying in my bed, reading one of those green Gideon Bibles people give you, I said “I do” to Christ. Actually, what I said was something like “Jesus, I want to know you. I want you to forgive my sins. I want you to change and direct my life. I want eternal life, and I believe you can do all of these things—that you will do all of these things.”
A simple prayer, followed by redemption. And as you’ve probably figured out already, it was that change in my life that has animated this book. As a recipient of grace, I feel somewhat constrained to explain it to others, to explain it to you. If redemption is what you really seek, then simply express that to God in your own words —or feel free to use mine.
In some entrepreneurial states you can still redeem your old aluminum cans. You take your empty Fresca six-packs to a redemption center, and they’ll give you money—nice, shiny money. This is as it should be. This is the theology of redemption. The moment you make that decision, the moment you say “I do,” Christ takes your sin and credits you with his righteousness. Not the hope of redemption. Redemption.
“I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life” (John 5:24).
Back to the start of Redemption 1.2.
Rick James was formerly employed on Madison Avenue, as an art director at the advertising agency of Young and Rubicam. He has a BFA from Syracuse University and an MDiv. from Trinity seminary. Rick is now publisher of a small Press and lives in West Chester, Pennsylvania with his wife and three teenage children.
Used by the permission of the author.
